


demon lovin'

by fragileizy



Series: FragileIzy's Valentine's Day 2021 Fics [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bisexual!Adrien, Bisexual!Luka, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Double Penetration, F/M, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, M/M, Polyamory, Public Blow Jobs, So here we are, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, and accidental plot in my porn, and the coping mechanism is writing buttstuff, bisexual!marinette, in which the author just wants to write porn, its my quarantine and i get to choose the coping mechanism, thank you and have a good night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 82,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29276412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragileizy/pseuds/fragileizy
Summary: “He’s bad in bed,” Adrien finds himself saying. Luka’s eyes glitter with humor as he sets aside more glasses. “Thinks his sex playlist is too good not to keep on.”“Bon Jovi is good.”Adrien’s mouth quirks. “I’d argue more about the Softcell.”If he has to hear Tainted Love in any sexual context ever again in his life, he’ll turn himself into a human.He’s not kidding.“I learn something new about you every night.” Marinette’s brows raise, before turning to him in her seat. Her chest expands full as she breathes in, pushing those beautiful tits up against the counter again. “You and Luka?”“He was drunk.” Luka laughs. “And we were young.”“No, you’re lying about both of those things, this smells recent,” She inhales slowly again like she can still smell the scent of their orgasm on them after it being so long ago. “Two years ago maximum, it smells like. Sober. Planned. Orgy? Threesome? I smell a third on you, Luka, but not on Adrien. How could you two behave this way without me?”--Demons Luka and Adrien want nothing more than to bone Marinette, the local succubus.She's not making it easy for them to stop thinking about it.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: FragileIzy's Valentine's Day 2021 Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150067
Comments: 39
Kudos: 131





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> :) I've never written this type of stuff before.  
> I was checking out the local lukadrinette explicit fics and I'm so upset from the lack of fics ;_; so here's my contribution!
> 
> This is part of my February Fics where I'm going to be uploading all the fics I've written throughout the year that are explicit. There's enough to post one every weekend! Yay us!
> 
> Enjoy!

Adrien is sensible.

He knows the lines between succubi and demons blurs hard for humans, never understanding the difference between them. To them, demons and succubi are nothing but fairy tales. Religious beings, from a book that some say that is as old as the world is itself. It gets worse for humans when they’re drunk, which, fine. He’d preyed on drunk decisions before. 

When humans are drunk enough they can’t tell the difference between beer and vodka, either. But he more preys on the shifty eyes, the licking lips, the want and visceral need that feeds him. Succubi don’t feed off of the desires unless it’s a specific one. Contracts were made, contracts were signed, Adrien would snap his fingers, and he’d work his ass off to get what the contract required.

_I want more drinks._

_I want a partner to dance with._

_I want a partner to go home with._

_I want a puppy,_ even, at one point. That was the best wish he’d ever dealt with.

None of it is ever in the grey area of consent, which Adrien is proud of himself for. Adrien’s too noble for that. He picks his prey with a meticulous craft, lets them fill to the brim with want and desire, before he clutches them close. Whispers in their ear and asks what they crave. A genie in a bottle with only one wish, what is it that they want the most at that very second?

Oh, the feeling was intense and fiery in his stomach when the human thinks of what they want and asks for it. It almost makes the scent of their sweat almost bearable. Almost. But the need, the want, the desire curls full in his body. He always leaves satisfied and full.

Adrien shoulders through the line, skipping over the velvet rope with one of his long legs. Ivan, the bouncer, nods to him with a knowing smile, uncurling his beefy hands from his chest to open the door for him. The girls at the front of line whine and bicker.

“Why does he get to go through?”

_I want to go through, too._

“I’m sorry, ladies.” He means it. “If you see me inside, let me buy you a drink to compensate?”

One look into the woman’s eyes tells him everything. 

_I want to be the one and only that people look at tonight._

The desire to be famous settles hard into his chest as if it was his own wish. She reeks of desperate talent, and he knows almost instantly that she’ll be one of the best dancers on the floor, trying to compensate for something he can’t exactly figure out from this distance as he crosses through the door.

He’ll keep his eye out for her inside. She looks promising.

Nino’s bass licks whatever is left of his soul inside and out as he walks in. Nino works hard, setting the scene for humans. No one knows that he feeds on the sweat and the grinding. No one knows that he works hard enough to salivate behind the music stand. Nino almost glitters against the back wall, headphones locked onto his ears, drowning all the noise but just tasting the air as he controls the crowd to dance.

Nino listens through the fog in their chest for wishes for different songs. Easy, simple, so insanely benign that Nino is always full to the brim with how much he feeds. It makes him look juvenile and young, from all the feeding.

It’s hard to see inside the club, even with superior eyesight, taking in the smell of sweat and want. There’s far too many people in the club than normal, the crowd moving far too much as a tidal wave to be considered still in building regulations. 

Adrien’s chest curls from the palpation of desire and heat and want and the prospect of contracts that surround the perimeter of the building. His mind tickles with the amount of want in the club, far too much to be normal.

And then he sees her.

His mood sours instantly into a grimace as he feels the crowd’s wants, lips twitching into a frown, the pings of desire in his chest turning cold and thick.

_I want her._

_I want her._

_I want her._

No, humans can’t tell the difference between a succubus and a demon. But he can-- not that it matters. The humans around him are filled with desire and want.

Desire and want for _her._

His own desire spikes. He wants her. _Adrien_ wants her.

She spins on the dance floor, small hands curling on her neck. She throws her hair back like an inkspill as she twists, a long beautiful collum of alabaster skin disappearing into the red silk of her choker. She’s filled to the brim with greed as the club pulses around her, shrinking and contracting around her like a heartbeat. She is the only one that exists, as far as anyone can tell.

Adrien hates sharing territory.

It’s one thing to share territory with his fellow demon friends. Nino and Adrien are inseparable, have been since they were raised all those years ago. It’s _their_ territory, not just his. Lesser demons are easy to share territory with as well. Everyone feeds when contracts are made. But it is another to share with the all-consuming greed of a succubus.

It’s another to share with the all-consuming greed of _her._ He doesn’t want to share. 

He doesn’t want to share _her._

He shoulders his way to the bar with a stormy look, everyone impassive to him except the demon bartender who gives him a knowing look. No amount of baring his teeth will keep the demon on the other side from chuckling, wiping down his cups with a warm rag. He knows Adrien too well to take his threats seriously, knows him too long and too intimately to think there’s real malice hidden in his fangs when he bares them.

A shot glass slides on the counter in front of him. “You’re late.”

“I can tell.” Adrien pouts into his cup, tipping his head back to swallow. Absinthe burns the back of his throat, polishing what little is left of his soul into something soothing. “How long has Marinette been here?”

Her name tastes like salvation on his tongue.

“Two hours earlier than you.”

“Didn’t leave satisfied last night?” She was here the day before, too. He’s starving for a soul to eat. A contract to make. Anything that doesn’t have her mixed into it. But there’s nothing around him except _her, her._

 _I want to go home with her,_ most of the desires swirl into his chest. He is nothing but an empty vessel filled with fogs of want from others. 

_I want to fuck her._

_I want her legs on my hips._

_I want to hear her sigh into my mouth._

Adrien scowls again as the desires ping and dissipate into fog like supernova stars.

_I want her to be mine._

He’s not sure that a human made that want. It could’ve been his.

It’s hard to make thoughts when his chest curls and pings with wants from humans that he cannot satisfy. They threaten to crash out of him, and he wrings them back with experience, keeping the tidal wave cresting and falling in his chest instead of out his mouth.

“Interested in her success?”

“Don’t tease, Luka.”

Luka’s mouth quirks. “Her boyfriend broke up with her last night.”

She’s dancing too hard. Surely someone will notice just how perfect she is soon. Surely someone will notice how genuine her sighs are. Surely someone will realize she’s the only one people can keep their eyes on.

“She’s soaking up the competition too much.” Adrien nurses the empty glass. Luka fills it with a new hazy bottle stopped with a cork that squeaks under the bass of the music.

“When’s the last time you fed?” He looks like he already knows the answer.

“Too long.”

“You shouldn’t stay here, then.” Luka sighs, knowing that his argument is useless the moment it leaves his mouth. “There won’t be anything for you left if you stay at the bar.”

He turns to look at Marinette. Her halter dress has too many cuts on the sides, showing unmarked porcelain skin. It’s essentially a full-body thong at this point, she’s not wearing anything except about six strings that constitute as a dress. “Why do we keep pretending we don’t like her?”

“You know why.” Luka’s eyes swirl blue.

He inhales his shot without so much of a grimace. Spirytus vodka. Now Luka was just starting to tease. “We’re weak.”

“I'm not.”

“You’re weak for her tits, admit it.”

“I feed off of her when she dances and brings thirsty customers over here. Nino feeds off of her, too, when she forces that many people onto the dancefloor. Out of the two of us, I wouldn’t say I’m the weak one here. You should feed off her, too.” Luka smirks. “And yes. The tits are good, too.”

A headache is starting to bloom, knowing the order of this argument like the back of his hand. He’ll say his lines. Luka will counter with genuine reason that keeps Adrien up at night. He’ll scowl, stalk off to look for someone in the bathroom who was away from Marinette’s range. Create a measly contract and feed. Hope that it wasn’t a contract that involved using the glory hole. “Feeding off of her work is immoral.”

What? He was raised conservative. Sue him for following the rules his parents taught him.

Luka, to his surprise, pours him a third shot instead of explaining to him why he continues to let Marinette into the club. It doesn’t need to be said, and Adrien is too stubborn to listen anyways. Luka fills it just to the point of overfilling, like he can hear Adrien’s desires. He probably can. “That’s all I’m giving you tonight.”

_I want her in my bed. I want to have my way with her. I can’t stop thinking about her thighs against my shoulders. I want her ex-boyfriend to see me fuck her silly into the mattress. I want to drain everything I have into her perfect ass._

Is that his wishes, or Luka’s?

Can he even tell the difference?

Adrien pouts. “Cutting me off already?”

“I don’t think you’ll need it.” Luka smiles, showing teeth.

Adrien’s eyes track the movement to his left, trying not to let his eyebrow raise. Marinette eases into the seat next to him, sweating, swirling her red nailpolish fingers on the counter with a laugh. Luka pointedly ignores Adrien’s eyes narrowing at him.

Want and heat starts to unravel out of his chest as she continues to let go of the proverbial spotlight off of her. The humans around them blink film out of their eyes, taking in breaths like they’ve been frozen for years. The dance floor moves back to grinding, now that she’s gone.

 _I want a drink._ Actual wishes settle into him instead, pinging like stars in the fog of his chest as she lets the desire escape between her opening fingers. Legitimately twirling her hands into the air in front of her to disperse whatever magic succubi have that Adrien doesn’t understand quite well. 

_I want to dance._

_I want to know why I feel like my energy was taken out of me._

_I want some water._

_I want to go to the bathroom._

He’s drowning in desires like it’s a storm.

“You’re late.” Marinette leans into a hand to look at him, lips red and wanting. Her voice is enough to keep him out from drowning in greed. “I thought I was going to have the club all to myself tonight.”

_I want Adrien._

Her eyes are starlight as he relaxes into his seat, “I’m not _late._ You’re _early.”_

“I had nothing to do at home,” She lifts a delicate shoulder as she explains, lips tapering into points sharp enough to cut through glass.

He smiles anyway. “I’m sorry about your boyfriend.”

“I’m not.”

Adrien lifts a brow. “Didn’t like him?”

“Not as much as I like you.” Her eyelashes bat. She’s always so honest, it’s disarming. “He was upset about the competition he had when people looked at me.”

Luka slides a drink in front of her with a genuine smile. “And not the amount of people you’d bring home?”

_I want Luka._

“Humans, am I right?” She sighs, curling her back as she stretches. She makes a pretty noise with her mouth when she strains to stretch harder, cupping her ribs with her small hands and spreads it down to her thighs. “No matter how good their dick is, they just get so territorial when you bring other people.”

_The only people I want territorial of me are Adrien and Luka._

“I mean, sure, he was totally fine with threesomes when I started to bring girls back home, but the moment I brought a dude?” She sighs again. “Humans are impossible to date. I don’t know why I bother. They’re so finicky. Let it be known officially that I’ll fuck anyone with a pulse, what have you.”

Marinette accepts the shot without a second glance to what’s inside, rehydrating herself for another round of dancing. The liquid is dark in the glass, nearly scentless. There’s alcohol in it, but he can’t tell the percentage from this far away as she swirls it in her mouth. Adrien wonders what it is, never having the exact words to ask Luka without feeding into his ego.

Luka glances over to Adrien as she curls her tongue into the glass to drink every drop. “Humans are fickle. You need to be more careful with them, they could become dangerous. I would hate to see something happen to you when you’ve been nothing except the perfect leech in this club, sucking out competition literally and figuratively.”

“Oh, Luka, hurt me more with your words.” She licks her lips at him, setting the cup down, leaning into the counter to get closer. Her chest presses against the counter in a way that makes Adrien’s face heat up like a teenager. “I want to feel it this time. In fact, why don’t you come home with me so you can say more?”

_I want Luka to come home with me._

Luka truly has always had a soft spot for this succubus. Not like Adrien is any better. He’s probably _worse._ “I’m not the one you want tonight.”

_I want Adrien to come home with me._

“You’re only half right. I want you both. Is that a deal breaker?” Her fangs are sharp and smaller compared to theirs. Hard to suck dick with fangs in the way, Adrien’s sure, but he can’t recall ever having issues doing it himself. She licks the tip end of her canine as she waits for an answer, twisting her tongue.

“No.” Adrien is thankful that Luka doesn’t make eye contact with him, for once, instead cleaning out another glass until it’s as shiny as a jewel. There’s still humor in his eyes, like he can’t make up his mind whether he considers Marinette as a friend he’d bone for fun or a star crossed lover.

_Let me have my way with the two of you._

“Oh? My, what a good boy you are.” Marinette sits back down, parting her lips as she sighs. She fans herself with one of her hands, tracing the patches of skin showing on the slit of her dress with another. There’s too much skin showing for Adrien’s comfort when it comes to her, being able to see the entirety of her side through the sheer mesh. No underwear at all, but it wasn’t as if he couldn’t smell her soaking her thighs. It’s intoxicating, and makes him salivate on instinct. “You’re okay with sharing? How sweet. Oh Luka, you continue to prove to me that you should be one of my next matches.”

_Let me get Adrien and Luka to come so hard into my mouth that they never want to leave me._

“He’s bad in bed,” Adrien finds himself saying. Luka’s eyes glitter with humor as he sets aside more glasses. “Thinks his sex playlist is too good not to keep on.”

“Bon Jovi is good.”

Adrien’s mouth quirks. “I’d argue more about the Softcell.”

If he has to hear Tainted Love in any sexual context ever again in his life, he’ll turn himself into a human.

He’s not kidding.

“I learn something new about you every night.” Marinette’s brows raise, before turning to him in her seat. Her chest expands full as she breathes in, pushing those beautiful tits up against the counter again. “You and Luka?”

“He was drunk.” Luka laughs. “And we were young.”

“No, you’re lying about both of those things, this smells recent,” She inhales slowly again like she can still smell the scent of their orgasm on them after it being so long ago. “Two years ago maximum, it smells like. Sober. Planned. Orgy? Threesome? I smell a third on you, Luka, but not on Adrien. How could you two behave this way without me?”

Luka’s smile curls. “We didn’t know you then. And it was a threesome for only me, but not from lack of trying. I was the only one who touched Adrien that night.”

Adrien shudders at the memory, white heat surging at the base of his spine. Luka doesn’t do anything by halves. It had been the only feeding he’d ever had in his life that felt like a feast, his head full of desires fulfilled instantly.

His jeans feel too tight.

No wonder it was so common for demons to feed off of each other, creating a never-ending loop. He’s heard before that they are addictive to the point of no return. But Adrien has always been raised to follow the rules of the past, even though he starves himself in case the next opportunity ever arises.

He’s a demon of honor. And a demon of conservative upbringing.

But he’d jump willingly for the opportunity to have Luka again.

Eh. It’s a bro thing. He has no doubt in his mind that Luka is thinking the same thing.

Adrien blinks the memories out of his eyes. “You can smell that on us?”

“If I don’t look for it, it’s hard to smell the distinction. Think of it like cooking. You smell the food, but only when you taste it you can find the individual ingredients.” She sighs as Luka places another drink in front of her. Blacker liquid. Completely scentless. There’s no alcohol in it at all. 

Adrien wonders if it’s liquid sex, if it exists. Her neck is paper white as she drinks it down. 

She sighs as she puts the cup down. “Breathing normally is just like smelling food. But I can still smell the come if I focus enough. The best of us-- ‘Cradle Holders’ as we so lovingly call them-- can smell individual people on a person’s skin. Sex business is my business.”

So. She can probably smell the orgasms on his skin. All of them. Every single one, if she wants to. Can she smell them individually? Or just by day? He’d gotten so many that week that it’s honestly a shame the two of the hadn’t kept count. He doesn’t have to, but he finds himself arguing his reason why he smells the way he does. “Luka is good looking.”

“He is.” Marinette agrees easily, eyes shiny and bright as she licks the residue drops off the glass. He tracks her mouth with a baited breath, watching her curl her tongue deep into the glass. “Way too good looking for me to not ask. It’d be an honor to carve you into my bedpost, Luka.”

_I want Luka. I want Adrien. I want Adrien and Luka to come home with me. I want them both to know that I can tell they are reading my desires like an open book. I want them to know I can taste their wants in my mouth and how it makes me wet._

_I want Adrien to know that I’d love to be railed straight by him like he’s been imagining this entire time, because they’re not the only ones who can read sexual desires._

“Adrien walked funny for a week straight.”

“How long did you touch him?” She’s insatiable, cheeks blushing like she’s drunk. Maybe the drink was actually liquid sex. She turns to Luka, squirming in her seat to find a better way to clench her thighs. _I want to come. I want to touch myself. I want one of them to touch me. I want Adrien’s fingers in me. I want Luka to eat me out._ She's a whirlwind. “I smell a week on you both. On and off?”

“No. The days blended together.” Luka shrugs, moving glasses around, his hands twitchy. “It had been only us, in the end. The human had left satisfied after the first night.”

_I wish I was there. I wish I could’ve watched._

“I love me men with stamina.” She gasps, tipping her head back in thought with a groan. She squeezes her thighs together, reaching with her hand to finger at her choker. It surprises Adrien and Luka both when she doesn’t touch herself between her legs, even though she’s itching for it.

_I want to come. I want to come. I want to touch Adrien in the same way that Luka did. I want Adrien to stop playing these games with me. I want Luka to stop trying to clean that spot off that cup like it means something to him. I want him to palm himself through his jeans like I know he wants to, instead. I want him to use me._

Adrien can feel her desires pinging in his chest like beacons. It’s almost laughable at how clear he can read her, like he can taste it on his tongue and coat his teeth. He knows Luka can do the same, the way his eyes can’t stop following her lips, the way he puts the cup down on the counter at her desire. One contract immediately completely. Her joy is enough to make Adrien hazy from hunger, tasting the sweet contract fulfillment in his mouth.

Luka’s hand fondles himself in his jeans with a cheeky grin, and Adrien has to look away before his pants hurt too much. Luka does _not_ do things in halves.

Marinette’s joy is tangible in his mouth, another contract completed-- sweet nectar balming at the cracks of his being. His stomach and soul hunger for more, desperate, wanting nothing more than to crawl on his knees and give Marinette everything she wants.

But it isn’t in Adrien’s nature to give in so easily. He likes toying with his interests. Makes the reward all the more tasteful. “Luka took good care of me.”

She bites her lip, eyes hazy, watching Luka continue. Her eyelashes are long against her cheekbones. “Cooked for you? Did laundry? Cleaned?”

“Oh, I cleaned him out, alright.” Luka’s voice is dark. He glances over to a new human that makes her way to the bar, switching easily out of the mindset clear as day, pulling his hand away from his jeans. Adrien recognizes the fire in the human’s eyes as the girl who had complained about him when he’d first made his way into the bar. The drive to become the most popular dancer here.

Marinette’s hold in his chest disappears, a surge of pinging stars in his chest as the rest of the club’s desires floods into him. The girl standing next to the counter is the loudest.

_I want to be the most attractive girl here. I want someone to come home with me. I want people to look at me and want to touch me._

She doesn’t stand a chance against Marinette.

Luka tends to the girl with a friendly human smile. Humans can’t see their fangs, which is good, because Luka can’t seem to put it back into his mouth. Hungry. Hungry hungry hungry. 

Adrien signals to pay for her drink, and the girl’s nervous twitch between the eyebrows lessen when she recognizes him from outside, pleased that he kept his promise. Marinette swivels in her seat to look at the newcomer, as a new ping of desire hits him in the chest, blinking slow at the girl. 

_I want this man to come home with me._

The human quickly turns with a heated face when she makes eye contact with Marinette.

“Interested in blondes?” Marinette rests her cheek against the ball of her shoulder, fanning her eyelashes towards him as the human walks away with her glass. She is the calm in the storm of desires that flood over him again as she stops controlling the conversation in her favor. He’s drowning in normal human wishes, until her wishes ping and flare in him.

_I am. I want Adrien and Luka. I want them to the point it hurts._

“No,” Adrien is quick to smile in spite of himself.

“Shame.” Marinette’s eyes are full of white heat again. Incredible how she switches between two extremes. “We could’ve had so much in common.”

“Shouldn’t you be out there, feeding?”

“Shouldn’t you make a contract with her?” Her tongue is pink and soft as she traces the outline of her lips. “I don’t need to be a demon to recognize what she wanted. Easy pickings.”

“I’m above easy pickings.”

“Of course.” She perks as another cup is placed in front of her. White liquid. The cup is about two thumbs or-so full, maybe even more, and doesn’t foam as she swirls it in the cup. This definitely has a smell, one that Adrien can’t _exactly_ place but has a few guesses-- but there’s no alcohol at all in it.

Luka’s wants feel like starlight in his chest. _I want her to watch her drink every last drop._

Hm.

Would it be offensive for him to watch for any bridging between the lip of the glass and her tongue when she pulls away? Is he profiling her, stereotyping any white liquid in a succubus’s mouth to be the ultimate ecstacy? Judging by Luka’s wants, no. She drinks with want and greed as if she can hear his desires, and they follow the line of her throat as she swallows. Adrien’s brow lifts when her cheeks heat again, eyes hazy, her tongue wiping her teeth clean.

_I wish this was Luka’s or Adrien’s come instead. I wish I was the one cleaning them out. I want them guzzling down my throat._

Luka, you sly dog. He didn’t know it was possible to import human come in a bottle. But Luka is nothing if not appreciative of all forms of underground beings, including the one that sits before them.

Luka smirks, bending down behind the counter for something or the other.

She tips her head back with a moan that spears him in the stomach. Her cheeks heat the most beautiful red, and she can’t stop herself from curling her tongue into the cup again. Every single drop swirls into her tongue, and she’s panting enough to fog up the glass with her breath. Her thighs squeeze hard enough to hurt, he’s sure, because she shudders so visibly that Adrien’s sure that the barstool is drenched with slick and her own come.

She can’t stop fingering her choker in want and greed as if her itch is right there instead of between her legs. Adrien wonders why she’s isn’t topping herself off if she’s so desperate for it, she’s never been one to hold back on anything sexual before.

_I need more._

“If you won’t go out there and feed, then I will.” She steps off her stool with a sigh, twisting her manicured nails in front of her face to disturb the heat of the club for her weird succubus magic. Nino immediately switches to something full of bass that rocks into Adrien’s chest like fog. “Unless, of course, you want to have a bet with me?”

He takes the final shot that Luka gave him minutes ago, wincing inwardly at the temperature. Lukewarm alcohol settles dimly in his pinging chest. “You want to make a contract with a demon?”

“Dangerous, I know.” Her eyes twinkle. _I want Adrien to say yes._

“I’m interested.”

“Oh boy.” Luka rolls his eyes behind the counter. “Want me to keep score?”

“That would be wonderful.” She bats her eyes. “You’re coming home with me, bet or not, so you’ll be perfect to keep a tally. Won’t you, Luka dear?”

“You’re so sure that he’ll follow,” Adrien narrows his eyes in wonder.

She gives him a look, tossing long black hair over her shoulder. “You’re not the only one who can feel sexual wants, Agreste. I just happen to _feed_ off of it. And you two, my beautiful little pets, are about to burst.”

“What’s the bet?” He can’t stop himself from smiling.

She sighs, going soft as she lifts another shoulder to her rest her cheek against. “I’m going to the dancefloor. Try to get more contracts than I can feed.”

His eye twitches. “I don’t see how that’s a bet. I’ll win if I just get everyone to want to go pee, or something.”

“Whoever gets the most at the end of the night gets to come first, at my place.” Her eyes drop to his jeans. He’s too prideful to hide the evidence. “You’re looking a little uncomfortable. So I guess I better hurry and find some more dicks to drink.”

The contract seals almost immediately as she turns on her stiletto heels, and for the first time tonight, he can’t tell whether her desire is _I want him to win_ or _I want him to lose._

* * *

She slams down into her stool again, gasping for breath, sweating up a storm. “Tell me where Alya is and I’ll suck your dick?”

It’s not much of a question so much as an obligation. She’s kind and considerate, of course, and she knows just how stiff he’s been since she’s entered the club about four to five hours ago. He’s always been like this ever since they’ve first met-- he aches for her in a way she doesn’t _really_ comprehend. Like he’s never met a sex-appeal incarnate of a demon before. 

But he’s older than her. Not by much, she can tell that he carries himself with about the same relative age as her. They’re ageless, appearance wise. And yet, the man in front of her whose probably seen countless wishes granted to the point where the count has far beyond glazed over in his head looks at her with awe and want. Like she’s the first succubus he’s ever seen.

It’s fine. It’s okay. She’s seen demons want nothing more in their life but to have someone to bed. Countless of demons she’s met and cared for for a day or two still remember her even after hundreds of human years, still remember how she’s a considerate lover.

She’s good at her job. Duh.

And yet. And _yet._ Something about Luka’s genuinity makes her confused. He’s always so honest and earnest with her. Demons don’t need to lie to each other, but some do anyway. He lies about little things, like why Adrien and him smell like two perfect meals in front of her wrapped haphazardly in aluminum foil, saying that it was a drunk endeavor and years ago. She’s used to that type of lying. 

But she’s not used to the friendliness and the adoration in his eyes.

She’s never seen it before.

Marinette’s been bordering the late twenties for about half of her life on earth. Probably. The years blend into each other. She likes the way her body fills out at this age, how her tits look nice in lace in the way they don’t when she de-ages herself in the mirror to early twenties. Her ass isn’t too bad in the mirror, either. Full, with her muscles toned to the perfect definition to be enticing, she’s happy with her looks. The mirror never looks as attractive as it does when she’s in front of it.

She _knows_ she looks good. She _knows_ that people look at her. Especially in clubs. No bouncer is iron-hearted enough to keep her from entering, even if she has to get creative in how she convinces them to open the door.

She’s never lived her life crawling through windows in order to get to clubs, to which she’s thankful for. And certainly not here. Ivan doesn’t even bat an eye to her as she forgoes the velvet rope entirely, tossing kisses and winks to the fuming humans as she passes. Luka welcomes her like a family member, almost. No. More like a friend he hasn’t seen in a while, and the only thing he can remember about them is how good they use to feel on his dick.

She’s used to it. It makes her want to do better at convincing him to take her home.

She feeds off of social interaction-- she _needs_ interaction like it is a drug. Come, too, if they can give it to her. But being on the dancefloor and having everyone fill with sexual greed can keep her hunger from spiking too low for the rest of the week. She’s survived on less before.

Luka’s eyes crinkle at her as she pushes her chest onto the countertop. He’s pretty like this, tending the bar like it’s the only thing he cares about, although the want that taints her mouth tells her otherwise. His hands don’t stop moving the rag against the countertop, trying to get rid of some invisible stain she can’t see from her side, trying to keep himself busy. Her teeth hurt from the amount of liquid heat that she can taste in her mouth emanating from him. 

Luka loves Adrien to the point of hurting. She can taste it so clearly like she can see the night sky when she walks home from her sexcapades, desperate for a permanent place to stay. If only she could convince someone to stay with her for longer than a month-- Adrien is so lucky to have Luka. 

She’s wondered so many times before what it would be like to have friends like that. She considers Adrien and Luka her friends, no matter if Adrien complains about the sentiment. But up until today, the two of them have always skirted around the want and greed that surrounds her whenever she gets too close. She wonders if they’re having a competition between the two of who can cave first.

She just wants someone permanent in her life. Alya, Nino, Luka-- yes, Adrien too-- are the first friends she’s had in a long while. She can’t remember anyone else. But it’s hard to feel happy when none of them want her to date her.

She’s already given up trying to move her mugs into the cabinets of whoever she’s dating, already aware that the infatuation in the person’s heart is nothing more than a fleeting wish. Not even moving her favorite stirring spoon that’s in the shape of a heart usually makes it into her partner’s house, anymore. She’s tired. And hungry.

But Marinette isn’t made for permanence, she’s a night creature. No one has use for mindblowing sex during the day-- she’s _tried._ People get tired of it. Maybe _she’s_ the problem. Yadda yadda. 

It’s easier to convince herself it’s for the best when the she leaves the person’s apartment during the early morning, and not the other way around. She never invites anyone over. She hides. No one knows what her house looks like. She shuts them all away.

She doesn’t know what came over her when she bet Adrien. She could’ve said his house, or Luka’s, but her mouth had opened and talked before she could even register saying _my house._ No one’s been there in years. Every person she’s taken home since the eighties have actually been to their house, instead.

She’s tried dating other succubi and incubi before. But they can’t feed off of each other the way that demons can. They get antsy, being too close to each other for too long. Sex partners for a few fleeting nights before moving onto other humans. 

The _only_ succubi that can possibly withstand staying close to her are those in her Cradle-- they’re the only ones that can self-loop with her. She remembers the never ending orgies like remembering a feast during a famine. But they don’t want her anymore, either. They kicked her out sometime long ago before humans even understood what gunpowder was. The crusades, maybe. She can’t remember. It was a horrible time in her life.

Dick was pretty good back then, though.

Pussy has always been good.

She’s lonely. And tired. And wants nothing more than being something like what Adrien is to Luka to someone in her life.

Visions of her on her knees behind the counter and him pulling at her bangs makes her sigh. Thoughts of rattling the counter so hard it shakes make her smile. Her ankles weak as she has to stretch her body to the max while still on her knees to fit him all in her mouth. The feel of his denim under her jeans.

Her mouth salivates to the point of indecent, taking in his thoughts like a stiff drink. This man is going to be the death of her, and he has no idea why.

Okay. Maybe _some_ idea. He looks a little ashamed of himself as he watches her finger her choker necklace with heated cheeks. It’s in her nature to get aroused so easily. 

Instead of voicing any of his feelings, or even answering her proposition no matter how hard it makes him, he smiles at her like she can’t read every single thought of sex and come on his brain, his eyes cutting through her like she’s butter. “You’re working hard out there. Can I get you something while you recover?”

She exhales another exhausted breath. Fine. She’ll find Alya herself, if she has to. “What you served me last would be wonderful. I’ll take the entire bottle, if you’re willing to part with it. I’ll pay for all of the stock you have, if you have more than one bottle.”

She’s _hungry._ Daily orgies would be the perfect medicine to cure this hunger, _sure,_ but the heartache is still curling hard in her chest. But, okay. The bottles are still lovely. If she can’t get it out from the tap, she’ll settle for bottled. She’s not picky. Even though she’d rather have him.

He grins almost boyishly, pulling the heavy-sized bottle out of a cabinet. His forearms flex from the weight. She follows the lines of his veins with her eyes, fangs aching to bite and leave marks on his pale skin. “You like it? I thought you would; I bought a couple of them for you so that you’d have more things to drink.” 

“You’re the love of my life, you know.” She can’t stop her mouth from moving, sometimes. Curse of a succubus.

He laughs. “They’re expensive, though. They’ll put a dent in your money if you try buying them off of me.”

She’s the only succubus she’s known of to come into the club. Adrien will probably have a fit if any more succubi makes their way in-- the territorial dog.

She nods happily, hopeful to see the label. That entire bottle alone would be enough to keep her-- _happily--_ full for a week. “Is it imported?”

Oh, she _likes_ the way he immediately takes out a taller glass for her. Good boy. “I’ll fill this halfway if you can guess from where.”

Luka must be hungry too, if he’s desperate for a quick contract, which pains her deep into her tiny little soul. Everyone here feeds off of an ecosystem of some kind. Nino, the sweet demon that Alya loves to death, works hard in setting the rhythm for her. She usually dances until she collapses. All the humans watch her as she dance and feed her the equivalent of food scraps. When she’s done, the humans start to want and need and _desire,_ as the demons call it. They’re thirsty. They’re hungry. They need to go to the bathroom.

Adrien and Luka can easily pick off the humans one by one and eat with all those little wishes.

And yet Adrien grumbles about it every time. She’s not sure what his issue is about it exactly, she’s never gotten around to asking him. She doesn’t know him outside of the club, so she can’t exactly ask. Something tells her that he was raised to do better than just ‘I need to go to the bathroom’, but as someone who’s survived through a literal famine before, she’d rather Adrien just suck it up and deal with it. Hypothetically and literally.

She needs to work harder out there on the dance floor, if she wants to feed the two men coming home with her well tonight, even if her stomach grumbles for more than just a fleeting glance from a human. Luka shifts behind the counter in a silent question, almost like he’s begging for her to feed him. She narrows her eyes at him, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. She hums as she bites her canine onto her nail. “Hmm. Tasted east european.”

He raises a brow. “That’s your best guess?”

“Not done.” She licks at her teeth to chase any euphoria she left behind from cleaning with her tongue. The taste frazzles her senses when she finds lingering traces, and she holds herself back from whining on impulse. “Baltic sea?”

He looks genuinely surprised. “You’ve drank a lot of these before, haven’t you?”

“I travel a lot. And there’s always someone wanting a good night.” She grins. She doesn’t mention that she’s traveled the entire world for a place to call home. “I’m going to guess... Lithuania. How’d I do? Blowjob time?”

“Estonia.” But he uncorks the bottle anyway, with the perfect force in his forearms, experience of a man that’s worked behind a bar for a long time shining in his eyes. Her toes curl in her heels, watching the cup fill halfway and stain white, her senses coated with the smell. Euphoric. Oh, _euphoric._

“Hm, good. I thought I tasted blonde haired and blue eyed.” She accepts the sliding glass easily when he curls his wrist. She swirls the liquid in her glass as she leans into her palm, staring at him with quizzical eyes, trying to ignore how desperate she is to tipping her drink back and letting it sooth her throat like a balm. “So, about that offer.”

He can’t help himself but laugh, corking the bottle shut. “Is it before or after you go talk to Alya?”

“Does it matter?” She purses her lips into a perfect pout. The visions start up again as his eyes dip to her lips, visions of him parting her mouth with a thumb to see her fangs. Her lips are soft, of course. Perfect, and plush, and part easily when he captures her bottom lip and pinches it back to reveal her teeth. He’ll call her canines cute while pumping himself in his hand, hot and needing to be down her throat.

She can’t wait to guzzle the both of them dry. She’s so desperate for them that it hurts.

She drinks from her glass with a speed that compares to a parched man at the thought of reducing Luka into a groaning mess. She moans involuntarily as her own thoughts fuels the heat between her legs, eyes fluttering shut, drinking honey-sweet and vanilla-bitter liquid from someone she’s never met. Average height, average build-- she can taste whatever last meal the person had. 

She’s instantly categorizing the taste to remember later, a habit she’s had for the past couple hundred or so years of her life, when things got too scarce, and her body had almost wasted out in that alleyway in Stockholm.

But things are different now. Now it’s not just a necessity, but a luxury too. Bottled. _Delicacy._ Fine dining, even. She can taste the residue of a person she’s never met from a bottle, enjoy it lavishly at a night club that can very well be her permanent place for a while. 

Alya loves her to death-- always begging her to work full time at the club since she’s here more often than Luka is. Nino feeds her as well as he can when she’s here and force publicity onto the club as more and more people come to witness the fun and the dances. Luka adores her-- buys her imported bottles from Estonia that are the closest thing to heaven-- and Adrien…

And… Adrien…

And Adrien watches her frustratingly from the side, completely refusing to voice any and all opinions of his feelings about her. Prude. She knows he’s not a virgin, definitely know _now_ that he can take Luka’s cock like a good pet. But he doesn’t want to admit to her. Maybe he was religious before he turned demon. Ha!

She sighs happily as the glass is completely cleaned out before she can even put down the cup to breathe. Her tongue curls into tight loops in the cup, chasing any spare drops, and she can’t help but moan when she finds some left at the bottom. She’s so _hungry_ tonight. 

Even the cup isn’t enough to keep her itching for Luka or for Adrien. It’s all their fault-- she’s used to the looks she gets. The wants and needs that people give off, just for her body. But something about the two of them makes her sex ache harder than normal. Something about the two of them makes her feel like she’s home and safe, even if they keep giving her distance. 

Yes, Adrien gripes about her, but she’s seen what’s in his head. It’s not an anger fuck he wants-- she _knows_ what that tastes like in her mouth. But she doesn’t taste the acid in the air when he looks at her, she tastes sweetness. Adrien _wants her._ The same way that Luka does. Almost like they want to give her a home.

She holds back from that. It’s too painful to give into hope like that.

But, still. _Still._ Something about them makes her want to go crazy and let loose, let her teeth actually show and let them use her like they want to so badly and _let them,_ like she’s finally been let loose from a leash.

As if Luka can read her mind, visions of her being leashed and him pulling trickle into her mind. Kinky boy. She’ll remember that. She doesn’t mind being a pet for others either.

She cocks her head at him, and he follows her lips as they part, realizing that he still hasn’t given her an answer. “Luka, are you not answering because you’re shy?”

“I’m not,” He’s always so patient with her. Watching her, almost detached-like, like he can’t believe that she wants him to the point of begging. She tries to be patient with him, too, but can’t help herself and her impulsivity. His smile twitches, and more visions of her bent over the counter flood her vision. Her thighs squeeze involuntarily. “I just don’t think it would be fair to Adrien, whose working so hard to eat, if you broke your contract.”

Luka’s always been the one to open his doors to her, even though her kind is considered even lower than his. All four of them have. She’s grateful. It drives Adrien up the wall how she’s the only succubus that’s made it to Luka’s warm heart. She hates that succubi are still technically outlawed, even by demon standards.

This is her home, whether Adrien agrees to it or not.

Territorial sap. 

Maybe he’s just upset about how most of his contracts always have to do with her. Maybe he should just get better at his job. She’d suck him off for free, even _if_ she hated him-- he’ll survive if the contracts keep spiraling over and over about her. They can share territory without butting heads if he could just stop skirting around his infatuation.

“Who said I’d break it?” She doesn’t bleed when she tongues her canines. Luka just can’t steer clear away from his thought of her tongue, her mouth, his hand fisted in her hair. If she didn’t know any better, she’d even call it a crush. Cute.

Luka blinks. “Isn’t the contract to see who can come first after my shift ends?”

“You’re not included in that, my sweet.” She drops her eyes to the length in his jeans. His pants look so tight on him that it looks painful. Poor dear. “That’s only between me and Adrien. Sadly for us, you get to come whenever you want. I promise I won’t touch myself, I promise I won’t come, but I can help you out while you wait.”

Oh. _Oh._ She opens her mouth to let him watch saliva bead against her tongue as more visions pour into her mind. Luka is wanting. He’s so close-- just a little nudge further and he’d be done for in the next ten minutes. Seven. Five, maybe. She’s good at her job. She licks her lips when he shifts, phantom images of his cock stretching out her esophagus as she deep throats him, of his head lolling to the side in pleasure. Lovely boy.

“So. Yes? Blowjob?”

He’s struggling for reason, debating on about twenty different responses. He sounds weak with argument. “Someone will see you.”

“Poor Luka. Afraid of indecent exposure with a succubus.” It’s hard to talk when her mouth is filled with saliva, but she manages. She sighs behind an open palm, grateful for the hint of his smile as he realizes his mistake. 

All she wants is to continue to see that perfect smile of his, fangs glinting white as she continues to fuel his hunger. Visions of an open cupboard big enough for her to crawl under as he takes orders makes her smile curl indecently. 

And he’s afraid of flashing his customers. What a laugh.

“Invite me over there, good boy, if you’re so desperate for it.”

“I--” His eyes are starlight in the club’s scattering lights. He tracks her tongue as she pokes at her own fangs, small and kitten-like. His smile goes boyish. “Okay. Come here.”

Perfect.

She can cry from how happy she is.

Instead, she passes him her empty cup of ecstasy, and jumps off her barstool to find the entrance. He follows her on his side of the counter, lifting the pull-away counter for her when she finds the opening.

She can’t kiss him, even though she wants to. She wants to see if he’ll complain if she chews on his bottom lip, but there’s no time. It has to be fast and unnoticable, and as much as she wants to take her time and go slow and milk him till the point it hurts, she understands the hurry. His excitement is tangible in her mouth as he guides her to the spot he wants her to stay. It’s perfectly sized for her.

She crawls easily under the small cabinet space that allows for a chair or two that the bartender doesn’t need. It’s empty, thank god, and she doesn’t look any closer to the area around her than she has to, knowing that if she sees a spider there’s no amount of cum guzzling prospects in the world that will get her to crawl back into the space.

It’s quiet, in this little spot. She can still feel the bass in her body, but the bright notes of the song feels hushed and quiet to her sensitive ears. She can hear herself pant more clearly, and she winces slightly as her ankle complains at the weird position of her legs.

She eases onto her knees instead of squatting and fists extra fabric of his black jeans between her hands. He pops his jeans open for her, but lets her do the rest as he keeps his hands above the counter. He’s close to bursting as she pulls him out of his jeans and underwear, puffing hot air on his heavy underside when he bobs and hits her cheek.

She loves putting a new dick in her mouth for the first time. She curls her tongue over and over around him, and pulls him into her hollowed cheeks with a slurp. He’s big enough and delectably stiff enough to slide easy down her throat when she takes him down all the way to the base, and she swallows around him with practiced ease.

He loves it. Oh, he loves it _immediately._

He tastes like want, and need, and liquid sex, and _please, please, let me come, please._

Her hands threaten to pull up her dress to work two of her longest fingers into her as she sucks him greedily, but she’s better than that. She’s not new to this, not at all, and she’s thankful that she never gets tired of the hunger between her legs. He’s stiff enough that there’s not much budge when she presses her tongue on the underside, and he is pulsing against her teeth. She lets herself drip against the floor between her legs as she aches for him-- aches for the thoughts of his cock perfectly nestled between her legs. He’ll fit. She’ll make it work. She’s nothing if not adaptive.

Bottled come is great-- she loves it-- nothing’s ever wrong with a shot or a glass of it-- but it doesn’t compare to the real deal. No matter how fresh bottled come is, no matter how well produced it is, and no matter how well the person is fed before producing it, it doesn’t compare to be on her knees and suck it out fresh. She’s got a habit of getting people of all genders to sit on her face and ride, and she makes sure to treat them with great care. They’re her life force, after all. 

She’s a good lover.

His precome makes her mouth water as she tongues his head, whining low in her throat as his lust coats her tongue like candy. She’s careful of her teeth, she always is, so when she scrapes the edge of her canine on the soft underside of his skin, it’s on purpose. He likes a bit of pain. He hardens more in her mouth as if to confirm it, and he exhales harshly like he’s at the point where he’s hurting.

Someone comes up to the counter for a drink. 

“What can I get you?” He twitches in her mouth.

Slow, hazy visions of whatever human is on the other side of the counter reach her mind of them kissing and riding Luka’s cock. Marinette hums appreciatively at the vision of anal, and uses her left hand to pinch at her hardened nipples over the satin of her dress. She can’t come, she _won’t_ come, but even so she appreciates the pain that sparks on her chest from the feeling.

“Alright, I’ll get that started for you.”

Luka is lucky that whatever he needs is close by.

She follows him with her mouth as he leans down slightly to pick at a new bottle under the counter, and he takes his time getting back up like he can’t trust his knees. Good boy. Her body is thrumming like a live wire, hopeful and ready for him to shape her throat permanently with the shape of his cock. Deep throating is one of her passions, of course, but her favorite hobby is making sure that whoever she’s working with is exhausted by the time she’s done with them.

The human continues to think of anal sex in all different positions with Luka pistoning into them. Cowgirl, missionary, full nelsons-- oh she loves _that one,_ she’ll save that idea for tonight-- sucking Luka off with their mouth. They’re sloppy in their technique, but the enthusiasm more than makes up for it. She can’t stop plucking at herself, teasing and edging herself to the extreme. 

He mixes something with shaky hands, filling her mouth with saliva. He’s aching. She can taste the shakiness on her tongue.

She’s going to stop herself from taking everything from him. She’s hungry, she’s famished, and a good back-to-back loads out of Luka will be enough to keep her satiated for a lot longer than should be reasonable, but she knows it isn’t fair to Adrien. The night hasn’t even begun for the three of them, and there are so many more people to fuck with her tongue. She wants them both to be there so she can take care of them, and she can’t do that if Luka’s already spent.

“That’ll be six fourty.” They’re both happy that the cash register is nearby as well.

She can also taste the last time he’s masterbated. It’s been a while. Last saturday, if she can think straight with her come-addled brain, but Marinette doesn’t do well when she’s got dick in her mouth. She can’t remember if she’d been in the club last saturday, and finds herself losing her thought as drops of precum tease her tastebuds. But she can still taste the heat in her mouth, the want and greed during his masterbation. He’d seen something he wanted that day. She can still taste how horny he was, working himself up into a fever. Orgasms don’t lie to her.

He’s never been with a succubus, that’s immediately true. She can’t taste any lingering saliva on him other than her own, meaning that no matter how long he’s lived he’s _truly_ stayed abstinent from her kind. She’s the first one to mark him. Some form of ridiculous possession curls hard in her chest at the idea. It’s rare she finds virginial demons who had managed to stay away for long enough, unless they’re newly born, and by the time they’re old enough to be with her they’ve already been marked.

He whimpers as she sucks harder.

She uncurls her long tongue from him, teething on his dick _just_ enough to make his foot twitch next to her knee with a gasp. She fists his jeans tighter as she bobs her head, slurping, taking all of him down to the root back into her throat.

She fists her hand even _harder_ into his jeans, nearly ripping at the knee, and uses her left hand to pull at the air, holding his horniness tight like a string between her fingers. 

_Come. It’s okay. I’ve got you. Let me take care of you. Let me love and cradle you._

She plucks the invisible string.

She’s a Cradle Holder for a reason.

She feeds eagerly as thick ropes of his come paint her throat and mouth white. 

Oh. _Oh._ Oh, he’s a _natural._

He grabs for her head from underneath the counter as he begins, and his knees bend slightly enough so that he can lean forward against the countertop. She sighs, satisfied, as his fingers dig into her scalp and squeezes behind her ears. He pants. He pants _hard._

How can she ever get tired of the taste of people using her? How can she ever stop and spit the sweet, loving bitterness out of her mouth when it’s all she wants?

She sighs as she slurps him noisily, losing her own composure, locking him where he stands with her hand firm at the back of his knee as she continues to bob her head. She continues to feed even after she’s sure he’s normally done coming, milking him with a firm grip on the base of his dick. 

She makes sure to get every drop out of him for this orgasm, wringing him completely dry for the next hour and a half. Normally she’d keep going until he makes it to his second, or his third-- demons can recover faster than humans, he’ll be fine. It would take her maybe fifteen minutes to get a second serving out of him, judging by the way he squirts down her throat.

It’s not often demons are completely satiated when they come, and it takes a lot longer to do so, but she’s considerate. Besides, Luka’s too hot not to clean out correctly-- too sweet to her for her to just halfass this. 

He deserves good in his life. 

He gasps harshly as she continues to swallow around him even after he’s stopped feeding her, after he’s stopped giving her the only thing she needs to live. She wants more. Oh, she wants _more._

 _“Marinette,”_ He can hardly talk, his normal baritone voice cracking at the edges. Good.

She eases him slowly out of her mouth by the centimeter, fingering her choker to keep herself from reaching down and helping herself come. She promised Adrien and Luka she wouldn’t, and she’s good-- _so good, yes, the best--_ at keeping her word, even if she leaves the tile under the counter completely sopping.

Luka’s dick is cleaned and polished by her tongue, no traces of what’s transpired left behind. She gives him one last suck on his tip and he winces from overstimulation, and that’s her cue to stop. Interestingly enough that it took him this long to voice discomfort-- Luka must _really_ enjoy the little pains. Kinky. She tucks him back into his underwear, and buttons his jeans for him, wiggling her tongue between the crevices of her teeth to get every single drop.

He helps her out of the cabinet space with a gentle, giant hand.

“Feeling better?”

His breathing is ragged, his eyes swirling with emotions she can’t read. “Y-yeah. I-- yeah. Alya’s in her office.”

She smiles, continuing to curl and uncurl her finger through her choker. “Good boy.”

* * *

Luka looks tired when Adrien comes back to his seat.

He’s tired, too. Quick and simple contracts are the easiest to do during a busy nightclub like this, and he does as many in a row as he can do without puffing out. He’ll reach for the medium wishes and desires next when he’s grown tired of gently coaxing humans to buy a drink or leave the dancefloor to go to the bathroom. It’s like tending to children. Or rounding sheep. He hates it, even though it feeds decently.

He was created for bigger things in life, he’s pretty sure. That’s what his mom kept telling him before she went back to hell. He has no reason to argue, especially as he complains to himself when humans are just lining up desperately to go to the bathroom as the music ebbs and flows.

_I need to go to the bathroom. I want this line to be shorter. I want to wash my hands._

Marinette is nowhere to be found. He has half a mind to search for her weird magic succubus warping thing tainting the air, but leaves it, instead focusing on Luka that’s in front of him and almost dazed as he wipes down a glass.

This isn’t the Luka he’d left behind to go do some feeding.

“You okay?” _I want to do that again._ “Luka?”

Luka blinks up at him. Smiles. His eyes are glassy with thoughts, and they swirl violently in his pupils. “How’s it going so far? Think you’ll win? You’re looking a lot fuller now.”

Adrien frowns, just barely. Marinette’s been here. He can smell her, somewhere, still on her normal seat from before but this time also behind the bar. They should probably wipe down this barstool, now that he thinks about it. It’s glistening. He raises a brow in accusation when Luka’s mind continues to turn and spin. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

_I want Adrien to win. I want Adrien to lose._

Adrien squints. “Luka. What’s going on with your desires right now?”

Demons are, _normally,_ very easy to read. 

Too easy to read. 

Their thoughts are bright colored objects in clear water, starlight the burns bright through fog. It’s part of what makes self-looping with another demon so attractive-- he doesn’t have to go through the process of picking them out through the mist in his chest. Adrien’s gotten good at singling out Luka’s desires from the confusing muddle that burns in his chest, since they’ve known each other for years. And maybe because of his dick being in his ass for a week straight. Whatever.

But his desires are completely a mess right now. Bright, burning, sparkling desires ping like crystals in his chest, burning and colliding and meshing into one singular wish, before breaking into smaller individual pieces.

_I want Adrien to lose. I want Adrien to win. I want Marinette to get on her knees for Adrien. I want her to finger herself so sweetly while she sucks Adrien off, like she wants to so badly. I want to watch Adrien completely unravel just by Marinette’s tongue if he wins. I want Marinette on her knees for me. I want her to milk me dry. I want Marinette to bite me on the dick._

Lord.

It’s been an hour or so since he’s left the bartstand, but Adrien’s successful evasion of a boner has immediately come back in full force. He _should_ feel upset-- or antsy, or angry-- as the feeling washes over him, but he mostly feels caged. He can’t do anything about it. He’s been ignoring the desires of humans to fuck him or let him fuck them for the entire night so far, saving himself for Marinette and Luka.

But it hurts. And Luka, for once, is not making Adrien’s life any easier.

Luka smiles easy, completely unaware of the storm he brews in Adrien’s chest and jeans as he wipes at his face. His chest feels like it’s glowing. “Marinette came by just now.”

“Just missed her?” Adrien hums, patting at his chest to keep the tidal wave of desires down. He takes a shot of whatever when Luka places it in front of him. Rum? Interesting choice.

But there’s something else, too, now that he’s sitting down and slightly less hungry and can focus on the little details put out in front of him, pointedly ignoring the glistening barstool to his left. 

Luka isn’t tired, he’s _relaxed._ Easygoing for humans was completely different to demons, and especially for someone as tame and easy as Luka, it’s all too easy to miss. He works with what he has, trying to get Luka’s attention with magic words. 

“I want you to tell me why you’re looking like you saw god.”

The contract tastes like an espresso shot gone cold in his mouth as Luka blinks film out of his eyes. “Marinette sucked me off just before you got here.”

“Come again?”

“Give me a few minutes. I’m still recuperating.”

Adrien scowls. Wishes he could throw a rag at him from his side of his counter, but settles with sending desire after desire about reaching over and swatting at him. Luka’s smile curls at the sides, finally out of his stupor.

“You know what I meant.”

“She sucked me off.” Luka raises a brow at whatever pings he gets from Adrien unwarrantedly. “I can’t feel my toes. I think she took more than just semen out of me-- it was-- _that was--_ amazing.”

_I want Marinette on her knees. I want to bend her onto the counter and eat like a starving man. I want to taste her pussy on my tongue. I want to give her what she gave me. I want her to gasp and moan like she does when she drinks come. I want to have her come so prettily on my cock._

Adrien watches Luka’s face flush with wary eyes. If Luka managed to break from Marinette from just a blowjob, she’s a lot better at her job than he’s anticipated so far. “She broke the contract?”

“The contract is between the two of you.” Luka takes a swig of something clear. Water, maybe, but Luka has always been a sucker for vodka. He looks out of it. “She felt bad about me being left out, so she left me a parting gift.”

“And you took it.” Adrien’s eyes widened at the confession. “How long did you last?”

Luka doesn’t answer him. His face is enough. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Luka blush.

“My god.”

“She’s good at what she does,” Luka tries to explain, as if he’s trying to kindle his pride back to life. He fills cup after cup with tequila without even looking down, turning back to the fridge to get whatever fruit he’s looking for. He tosses a stemless cherry to Adrien as he plucks the rest into the glasses. “I’ve never come so hard before in my life.”

He wants to ask. He wants so badly to ask.

Luka’s smile gets darker. Pats something he can’t see from his side of the countertop, as if it explains anything, and eats his own cherry from the jar with a forked tongue. “She was on her knees behind the counter. It was probably less than ten minutes. Her tongue is so much longer than I thought it was.”

Cherries make his face pinch when they’re too sweet, and he tampers down the involuntary movement, but in the process he manages to swallow the pit and tries his best not to choke. “H-how-- _Lord--_ how did she convince you?”

“She wanted me to tell her where Alya was.”

Adrien blinks slow, patting at his chest to dislodge the cherry pit. An answer for a blowjob? She must’ve been so desperate, if she traded come for an answer. Poor girl.

Well. Sort of.

He knows that for lots of succubi sucking dick isn’t exactly a problem. Most of the time whoever comes is the one technically getting a better deal. But it’s not like a succubus is ever upset about being fed. The globalization of succubus is still hazy, as far as Adrien knows. They’re not exactly legal in the underground eyes, but they’re not stoned to death if discovered. Small miracles.

He’s known demons before who have been with succubus back in the day when they were illegal. He wonders, briefly, if Marinette’s ever experienced hardship because of who she is. It makes him uncomfortable to think about.

Marinette herself never shows that she’s upset about the idea of using her body in order to get what she wants, and it’s often that he finds her in the club’s bathroom making use of her human tongue and mouth. Sometimes even more, if the person is all that attractive to her, bunching up her dress in a fist or forgoing clothes entirely. 

Her tits are so pretty.

He usually lets her finish whatever she’s doing that night before kicking them out of the bathroom. He has wishes to fulfill, and one less occupied stall is sometimes all it takes for his feeding of desires to speed up by thirty minutes.

He lets her eat, clearly, because he isn’t a monster. Also, he’s not sure he even has the ability to make her stop if he wanted to. Marinette’s face of ecstasy, as she fills herself up, is one that keeps him up at night. 

If a contract gets sealed on accident that someone wants to get sucked off, or just ride her face, Marinette accepts his asks for help with such enthusiasm that he doesn’t bother trying to kick her out of the bathroom stalls when she needs it.

And she _needs_ it.

It’s not as if Adrien can’t tell she’s hungry. She plays it off, and plays it off _well_ with her sinful smiles and her forced body shape. She’s full in the places that hunger don’t change-- her chest, her ass. Her thighs, too, are large and give the implication of health. But he sees the way her eyes shift over every body in the club, sees the way she’s close to crashing and hibernating if she doesn’t feed enough. 

He’s not actually sure what happens when succubi get too hungry, and he’s not sure at all if they get violent. Even while hungry and desperate, Marinette has never given the implication of violence. In fact, she steers clear away from that entirely. 

Wield dicks, not swords, and all that.

He doesn’t know how to feel about it. She can order easily from the kitchen whenever she wants to, and Adrien knows that eating something will stave off the hunger for a day or two, but he’s never actually seen her eat. Aside from licking her cup clean earlier in the night, Adrien isn’t sure she’s _ever_ eaten in front of him.

Strange.

Hopefully Alya can convince her better than he ever could for her to get something to eat. It doesn’t feel right, knowing that Marinette is starving and horny, but still trying to complete the contract to the best of her abilities.

“She’s far too hungry.” Adrien frowns to himself.

“She is.” Luka agrees easily. “If you really want to feed her that badly, you should let her win.”

“That wouldn’t be fair to her. She _wants_ the competition. She was the one who suggested it.” Adrien swivels in his chair to see a new human approach the bar.

_I want a margarita._

Adrien tries not to roll his eyes as Luka smiles and asks them what they want. 

_I want this man to give me his number._

Luka’s smile softens, looking like just a simple human bartender who works a night shift on a saturday instead of having an actual social life. “Margarita?”

“Yes, please.”

Adrien almost misses the second person as they sit in Marinette’s chair, and he tries not to purse his lips as Marinette’s sweet candy-like smell is dampened immediately. He turns to face the poor human that will definitely be able to feel whatever aphrodisiac produced by Marinette’s orgasm, and surprises himself to see the girl from outside again.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” He eases into a smile. Slips into his own human personality. “Want another drink?”

_I want this man to go home with me._

Oh boy. His pride isn’t inflated in the slightest when this happens. He already knows he’s good looking-- Marinette wouldn’t be obsessed with him in the first place if he wasn’t. Maybe. Probably.

Marinette confuses him, if he’s being honest. Maybe it’s the sulking that gets to her. Or the conservative upbringing. He has to laugh at the thought, and Luka’s eyes trace the curve of his smile like he can hear Adrien’s desires pinging in his chest.

The human girl traces an invisible finger painting on the countertop, batting at him with soft eyes. “I was wondering if you wanted to go dance?”

“I just got back from the dancefloor,” He unbuttons the part of his dress shirt as evidence, and she follows it with her lips parted. “Stay with me, for a bit. Tell me about yourself while I rehydrate.”

He makes the effort to flag Luka down as he takes another order down the bar, even though he knows that Luka’s been listening the entire time. He’s not territorial over Adrien in the slightest, but he’s a curious one, and butts into Adrien’s life even when he doesn’t want it. Luka ducks under the counter so he can laugh as the human shifts happily in her seat. Adrien convinces himself not to send any desires of wanting to hit him with a rag.

The human’s name is Chloe. She’s a dancer, he already knew, who wants to be more than her dad’s little angel. She wants to be a _star._ She has good prospects ahead of her, a good lifetime of family wealth and a natural career on social media to guide her. Adrien’s seen it all before in the club-- and while everyone that works here makes sure not to create any classist barrier for people to come in, it always ends up that there are more rich humans partying in here than normal.

The drinks that Luka carries with him are enough to pay for a normal priced car seven times over. Only the water is free. It is what it is.

She tosses her hair into a ponytail. It’s long enough to cascade alluringly down the side of her waist, and he watches the locks of hair appreciatively. Blonde are _pretty,_ he supposes. But he’s always been more in favor of darker hair, and he catches himself staring too long at Luka as he continues to mix drinks closer to the fridge.

That button up hanging off of his shoulders doesn’t do his body justice, Adrien thinks. Luka is far more better looking than the plain clothes he wears in order to blend in. He’s not going to tell his friend how to dress, of course, but it irks him that Luka doesn’t purposely wear the tight band shirts he wears outside of work in front of paying customers. He’d get _so_ much money.

He purses his lips as Chloe continues to talk about herself. Her job when Adrien tells her about how he works in health insurance (sure, that’s believable, isn’t it? he need _some_ way to explain why his clothes are so expensive, and trying to explain that it’s because he’s from a rich bureaucrat of a demonic family from hell just doesn’t sit well on the tongue), her car (Mercedes, of course, because there’s nothing less for the queen that is Chloe), her best friends when Adrien mentions his lack of close friends at the expense of Luka rolling his eyes, the tanning service she uses when she compliments his skin color, and how much her shoes cost her. 

She’s a pandora of stories that he’s unwillingly opened, and while he keeps his face friendly and approachable, Adrien can feel the boredom swirling in his chest as Luka’s desires ping in him, finally done humoring himself with how Adrien’s acting is almost perfect.

_I wish she would stop talking. I wish Adrien would complete a contract with her and get her out of here. I wish Chloe would stop sitting on Marinette’s chair. I want to smell Marinette’s scent again._

Marinette would’ve called him a dog if she was here. He’s sure of it.

Adrien feeds happily from Luka when he helps Chloe down from her seat, inhaling the completed desire like a cup of hot latte coffee. Self-loop. Hungry hungry.

It takes a while for the aphrodisiac from the seat to work into Chloe’s skin-- her white plunge dress is short, but not short enough to let the wetness soak into the backs of her thighs. Even with the delay, he feels it immediately on her when she shifts to smooth the back of her dress down. Her fingers are coated with it.

_I want to come. I want to know why I’m so horny. I want to take this guy onto the dance floor and grind against him. I want to wash my hands._

He can do a couple of those things. He’s not opposed to helping anyone sexually, far be it, but it feels almost wrong to help someone out with sexual favors when succubi exist, and there’s one in the area. 

Speaking of.

He checks the dancefloor to see if Marinette’s surfaced out of Alya’s office, but there’s no proverbial spotlight. Nino is still feeding from his place on the wall, sweating bullets under the harsh flickering lights that give him headaches when he’s done.

Marinette, as far as he knows, is completely missing from the club entirely. No magic warping energy close by at all.

Just as he’s about to lead Chloe to the dancefloor, a second person appears. Adrien’s instincts bristle in a pattern he’s familiar with as he looks up to the second person, telling Chloe to meet him on the dancefloor instead.

_I want them to take me to Marinette._

Luka sends Adrien a wordless glance as he tends to the person in front of him. “Can I get you anything?”

He’s thin, lanky, and pale-- about as tall as Nino but with more noodle and less bulk. A black sports bra with too many straps and holes and mesh make Adrien’s eyes travel up to the thick collar at his neck. The buckle is somehow thicker, with strong metal to keep the clasp in place.

He pushes his hair back, the tip ends of his hair the color of blood against his collarbone. His ears are covered in piercings that glitter under the low light of the club, with long loop chains dangling over pointed ears and reach down to his shoulders.

He smells like sex-- he’s drenched in it, quite literally. The long expanse of his torso is glistening with color, and Adrien doesn’t have to get any closer than he is now to tell what the sticky fluid is. Every muscle on his skin is defined and toned, in a way that matches near identically to Marinette, and Adrien follows the lines of his abs down to where they disappear into the high waist of his leggings. 

“Good evening! My name is Nathaniel.” Nathaniel’s eyes travel the board behind Luka, long eyelashes batting angelically. “And I’m afraid I’ve never been here before.”

“Want me to suggest you something to drink?” Luka’s eyes swirl with color, pinging in Adrien’s chest. _I want Nathaniel to explain what he wants to do with Marinette. I want Nathaniel to steer clear of Marinette._

He’s not sure he’s reading Luka’s wish so much of his own. It’s blending together.

Nathaniel laughs behind a pale hand, manicured with red nails. “Oh, I know. How about a ‘sex on the beach’? I hear those are good.”

“Do I need to card you?”

“No need.” Nathaniel’s green eyes are vapid with energy. “We already know I’m hundreds of years old.”

Adrien’s body bristles again. He knows that taste in his mouth as he continues to look Nathaniel over, to the way his plush mouth opens and parts to reveal baby fangs. He licks the fangs individually with a curling tongue, blue eyes winking toward Luka.

All Luka does is frown. “How did you get in?”

“It wasn’t hard to convince your bouncer,” Nathaniel’s lips move slow. “Poor guy. Never been rimmed before, can you believe it?”

_I want them to bring me to Marinette._

“We don’t have any use for another succubus.” Luka’s calm on his side of the counter, but Adrien can see his jaw tick. Luka can’t hide any emotion from Adrien anymore, and it’s like looking into perfectly clear water when he reads him.

“Oh, please. Don’t say such cruelties. I can tell that you’re in need of me plenty.” He turns to look over his shoulder, out to the dance floor. He flicks his wrist to the side and Adrien winces from the tidal waves of desires from the crowd out there that crash and fog up his thoughts. He thought Marinette was the only one who could do the weird succubus magic thing.

_I want him._

_I want that guy to rail me so hard._

_I want that redhead to eat me out._

_I want to know if he’s as good in bed as he looks._

_I want him to take me to the bathroom and use my mouth until he passes out._

Luka’s face pinches.

“My, my, look at all these visions in my head. Where’s your residential succubus?” Nathaniel unravels his hand to produce a card between his pointer and middle finger, and licks the edge to get his point across. He lets Adrien reach for it with a wary hand as he flicks his wrist in his direction. 

He wonders if it would be offensive to wipe his hand clean on his jeans from the sticky residue, but finds himself actually not caring about the propriety of it when he does it anyway. His mom would freak.

Nathaniel follows his hands with electric eyes. “Has she left _your_ Cradle, as well?”

 _Nathaniel Rouge,_ it reads. He’s never heard a more fake-sounding name in his life.

“No. Marinette is just busy right now.” Adrien snorts. He’s not _exactly_ sure what a Cradle is, and neither does Luka even though Marinette just mentioned something about it about an hour ago, but they make sure not to show it. Luka goes about organizing spare cups on the countertop, effectively shutting out Nathaniel from his thoughts. “We’re going to have to ask you to leave. We know you succubi get territorial. We don’t want a fight happening.”

“You know her by name?” Nathaniel’s smile curls. He sits on Marinette’s chair, wiggling his leggings into the cushion, crossing his legs one over the other as he fingers the buckle of his choker in the same manner as Marinette does. Adrien can feel himself twitching in annoyance. “Interesting. Interesting indeed.”

“She’s our friend.”

“Is she?” Nathaniel turns to Luka, staring at his crotch. He breathes deep. “Just a friend? Don’t bother lying, I can smell the truth from miles away. There’s more to this-- you’re in _love_ with her. The both of you are. Does she know?”

Adrien normally wouldn’t bother. But Nathaniel is creeping him out. “It’s none of your business.”

“I’m sure that’s what you think.” Nathaniel’s eyes are dangerous when he turns to face him again, curling his long tongue tight around his middle finger of the hand at his face as he continues to play with his choker with his other hand. “But that’s not true.”

_I want her to come back home._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a liiiiittle itty bitty bit too worldbuildy for what Should Have Been a porn-without-plot, but that's what happens when you like the characters you like too much! Definitely going to have to change the tags on this one, folks! I've compensated for your time with another blowjob because I love you~
> 
> Sometimes you just /have/ to write that "trashy, plotless, indulgent" fic that you always love to read but can't find it for a specific pairing. What better way than to write a succubus and a demon fic? Amirite?
> 
> Enjoy!

“You smell terrible.”

Alya’s office is a storm of paper and filing cabinets that rock threateningly to the sound of the base hitting up against the walls and her closed door. 

Marinette steps over a box labeled haphazardly with a green sharpie that reads  _ taxes, _ and her face pinches in sympathy when more boxes appear behind it as if it’s magic. 

She tries-- she does, she  _ really _ does-- to make her way to the other side of the office without having any loose leafs stick to the bottom of her heels-- she doesn’t want to tear holes into what is probably incredibly important documents-- but fails once she has to step over another box and the back of her foot immediately sinks through the cardboard lid like a spike.

“You like it?” Marinette can’t stop herself from sighing happily regardless, shaking her leg hard enough for the cardboard to unskewer itself from her foot. “Luka finally gave in and came in my mouth.”

Alya flickers through something on her laptop, her glasses reflecting a white screen and tiny little black letters, her full lips set in a knowing smile as she scrolls on the trackpad. She doesn’t stop to look up as she types away at something, giving Marinette the impression that she’s only half listening. “Is that why you’re so happy you smell like boy’s locker room?”

“You’re kinkshaming me.” Marinette pouts. It’s impossible to make her way towards the couch that she sits on, and Marinette wonders if she can convince Alya to organize her paperwork better and maybe actually get some correct storage for everything. It’s been at least two years since Alya’s been in this office, because that’s only as long as Marinette’s known her, and there’s still no progress to be done in the office in terms of fixing it up. It’s an entire fire hazard. One accidental drop of alcohol in here could potentially make the entire building fall apart into nothing if someone was to light a match.

Marinette somehow makes it across the room and drops onto the spare sliver of space on the couch next to Alya and toes off her shoes. Alya lets her lean into her for a hug that lasts approximately six seconds before she cringes again.

“Babe, literally.” She’s exasperated, but can’t keep herself from laughing. “Use my shower. Change your clothes. Your dress is literally soaked through, you’re practically sweating sex off of you. It physically hurts to stay next to you right now.”

“Kinkshaming.” Marinette wags a finger in her face.

“Yeah, yeah,” Alya waves her off with a roll of her eyes. “I’m happy you finally got what you deserve. You know I’m incredibly happy for you. But we know that Luka was the easier one to convince, how’s  _ Adrien  _ holding up? Does he know?”

“No. But he’ll probably find out soon enough. I sucked Luka off behind the bar when Adrien went to go harass people to hurry the bathroom line, and Luka looked like he’d found Jesus.” She confesses as she sniffles behind a fake cry. She stands up to pace around the room in a little tiny meter by meter space in the center of the room where Nino’s new bass had been a couple of hours before the club had opened tonight. He’s gonna end up ripping a new bass apart if he keeps making the music so loud. “Can you believe Adrien? Coke in the bathroom is the whole point of a nightclub’s access to counter space, he needs to stop telling humans to stop.”

Alya giggles. “Babe.”

Marinette pulls her dress off of her by the hem, inspecting the black fabric for any visible stains. She hates washing the dress, no matter how good it looks on her, because it’s always impossible to make sense of what straps go where when she’s trying to put it back on a hanger. “Fine, fine. He’s about three minutes away from jizzing in his pants at all time, and I got him to agree to go home with me after Luka’s shift is over.”

Alya stops typing. There she is. “No way.”

Marinette’s smile is full of teeth. “Yes.”

She puts her laptop down on a stack of government forms, eyes wide as she processes what Marinette’s said. “No  _ way.” _

Marinette purses her lips, eyes twinkling in delight. “Are you proud of me?”

Marinette’s always been a sucker--  _ ha-- _ for praise.

“Of  _ course _ I am. Are you kidding me? This is a dream come true.” Alya’s fangs are sharper, sure, but they fit her face well. Marinette’s never been one to shy back from complimenting her friends, even if they just think she’s doing it to get into their pants.

Alya is  _ beautiful. _ Marinette’s never seen a demon so pretty before, and that’s saying a lot since Adrien and Luka exist. But she’s always had a thing for blondes, and Luka’s blue eyes and pretty mouth are too pretty to pass up. Also, she’s not sure because his work uniforms are bland and ugly, but she’s almost positive he’s tattoed to the nines underneath his shirts. She wants to see.

She’s curious.

She does her best to compliment and take care of her friends, because she loves them. She makes sure to feed Nino well, since he’s really the only demon in the group that completely and directly feeds off of her when she works on the dance floor, and she likes that. She likes being appreciated for her craft. She likes being useful for her friends. Complimenting her friends is just another way to show that she cares, even if she’s doing it while they think she’s hitting on them.

Marinette’s learned that Alya and Nino are exclusive.

They’re just--  _ ugh-- _ so perfect for each other. Lucky lucky lucky.

No matter how hard Marinette tries to convince Alya to let her love her in the best way she knows how, there’s not a lick of want and greed in her eyes. There’s the appreciative gaze to her way sometimes, sure, but not because Alya wants to fuck her mouth. Alya considers her a good friend, and Marinette’s pretty. She knows that. Everyone knows that. It’s kind of her  _ thing. _

Just a pretty face with a pretty body, with no one to love her. 

Her own original Cradle kicked her out, what chance does she  _ have? _ It’s almost unheard of to be kicked out of a Cradle, because succubi need socialization to survive-- but it’s even  _ less _ unheard of to hear that a Cradle Holder’s been kicked out. 

The Cradle can’t survive without the Holder, they’re the ones who takes  _ care  _ of everybody. The ones that the Cradle is supposed to look to for  _ help. _ But she doesn’t have them anymore. And as much as she wants to believe that they’re suffering just as bad without her as she is, she’s not so sure about that anymore.

She’s so hungry and lonely.

Two of her friends in her group can’t make up their minds ever since they’ve met on what they wanted from her. Is she just a fuck or just a friend? Luka and Adrien can’t seem to figure it out. She can be both for them. If they decide to leave her behind after tonight is over, she’ll be okay. But she’d rather just have people who love her unconditionally.

Sue her, she  _ likes _ romantic comedy movies. The kiss at the end of those movies makes Marinette’s heart ache for romantic partners that won’t leave her after the lust for her body has settled.

Alya doesn’t like her that way. And she’s exclusive with Nino. 

That’s fine. That’s okay. Marinette isn’t going to force them into a relationship they don’t want to have with her.

Even being completely naked in front of her like she is now and Alya doesn’t keep her eyes lingering on her nipped waist or glistening inner thighs. Instead, her eyes are completely level to her eyes, not a hint of blush or tightening of the chest is on Alya’s face as she no doubt reads her mind.

“You okay, babe?”

Nino, too, just  _ laughs  _ whenever she tries to tease him about letting her suck his dick. Laughs! She’s a  _ succubus,  _ hello? A literal being to help out? Besides, it’s not like it’s a  _ personal _ thing. She knows the two of them are mutual, she’s not trying to ruin their relationship. But Nino treats her like a sister. Or the drunk aunt that shows up at parties far too late in the night that people think of fondly, and just laughs when she asks.

She’s awed by their commitment to each other, even if it swirls doubt in her mind. She’s never been friends with people she couldn’t make come with her mouth before, and she worries that they don’t like her enough. Monogamy? In  _ this _ day and age? It’s amazing. She envies the exclusivity, somehow, watching them madly in love. They’re made for each other. She wants to be happy like that, too. She wants to have a place to go home to.

Marinette swoons into a hand, trying to keep up her happy emotions. “I’m so happy I could cry. He tastes so  _ good,  _ Alya, I feel like I’ve been reborn. Maybe I should thank him, you know what I mean? Maybe he’s recuperated?”

“Maybe. But what you  _ should  _ do is shower.” Alya waves a delicate hand next to her face, grinning hard. She wants all the details, but not quite yet-- Marinette can recognize that smirk. “I’ll pick out your clothes for you, if you’d like.”

Marinette’s not really sure of it just yet, but she’s  _ pretty _ sure that demons specialize in things that they’re good at. Alya’s just too good at convincing others to do what she wants-- she has that  _ way _ with words that makes everything Marinette agrees with to turn hot and warm on her skin like a heated towel. No wonder she managed to successfully open a night club-- and she didn’t even have to suck any dick or pussy for it. And a shower  _ does _ sound lovely.

She drops her dress onto the floor. “Get me something cute?”

“Wouldn’t dream of putting you in anything else.” Alya’s grin is appreciative when Marinette finally agrees with her. “You know where the towels and mouthwash are.”

She steps over another pile of boxes, this time labeled  _ expenses.  _ “What if I want to keep tasting Luka on my mouth?”

“Then I’m just going to have to tell you to stop talking in my office. I don’t want to keep smelling Luka’s come from your mouth everytime you talk.” She hears Alya’s laughter even as she closes the door to the wetroom.

“Kinkshaming!”

Marinette looks at herself in the mirror appreciatively, fluffing her hair. Her makeup is completely  _ smeared. _ Her lipstick is probably all over Luka’s cock, though she’s not really sure where it else it could possibly be. Has she been kissing people on the dancefloor? It’s always a haze to her. Besides, ‘Sexproof’, her ass. If she can’t keep lipstick on her lips for longer than three dicks, it’s useless to her.

She’ll toss the new tube into the trash. What a pity, the color was so pretty.

She can spend hours looking at herself in the mirror-- she has, before, when she first got herself out of Stockholm for the first night and found a broken pocket mirror on the sidewalk, but she knows that she has a competition to keep track of. And as much as she only wants Adrien and Luka’s come in her, she also wants to give Adrien an actual fight.

She turns on the showerhead while looking for the mouthwash between the disaster that is the cabinet. It takes four consecutive swigs from the bottle before her cheeks burn that loving spearmint ache, and by the time she’s spitting into the sink the mirror is fogged from the hot water.

She lets the stream of water cascade over herself. The shower box is small, even by her standards, and the showerhead is the original stock item that came with the building from when it was constructed in the nineties, because it’s only ever her and Nino that use it. Nino sweats too much under those stage lights when he’s working up a feast, feeding so well off of her. 

She takes care of her new Cradle as well as she can, given the circumstances that they have no idea why she does it. It’s likely that they don’t even  _ realize _ she’s doing it. It’s the least she can do for them letting her into their lives, and it’s not like she’s going against instinct when she cares for the people in her life.

She lets her hair drench under the shitty showerhead, and has to angle herself a certain way to get as much of a stream as possible. The showerhead is backed up with rust, or something of the kind-- the only hard plumbing she does and understands has nothing to do with actual pipes-- and sprays in all different directions like an overused toothbrush. She’s complained so many times about it begging them to put it in their expenses, knowing that Alya makes bank on Marinette’s incessant dancing  _ alone,  _ but honestly, Marinette just keeps forgetting to go out and buy one and keep it on hand when she gets too desperate about it.

At least it’s clean. She’s been in worse.

She grabs for whatever Nino’s soap of the week is from the bottle and squeezes it over her body, and lathers herself up. There’s nothing arguably bad about the gendered soap-- it’s fine, if Nino wants to smell like Arctic Ice or whatever this is, she’s not going to complain about his life choices-- but she pouts a little as her scent of sex and sweat filters down the drain. She cleans extra well between her legs too, forcibly making sure that her fingertips don’t spend too long down there because she’s still aching,  _ still aching, _ and it wouldn’t take much to get herself to cry out in love for her own fingers. She turns off the shower before she gets greedy.

She towels herself off hard enough to wipe away the sharp scent of the soap. She should really leave some lotion of some kind in the bathroom, even though there’s barely any counter space for it.

She uses any spare surface as real estate, okay? She  _ likes  _ makeup. And hey, Nino hasn’t complained yet from the clear acrylic trays of eyeshadow and lipstick just yet. He’s just not that type of guy to complain at all, really.

She snaps her teeth at herself in the mirror as she works herself dry, watching her pretty lips pout back at her. Alya pushes the door in onto her foot as she enters, bass rocking into the small bathroom. “Oh, babe! You okay?”

Marinette’s quick to whine. “Oh, Alya, never knew you were into that. Hurt me more?”

Alya can’t help herself from laughing. “Shhh. Also, you smell a  _ lot _ better. How has Adrien not run off screaming about ‘the propriety’ when he smells you?”

“Maybe he’s been taught not to kinkshame.” She sticks her tongue out. “Unlike some people.”

“I don’t think private tutors teach that sort of thing.” Alya laughs.

Marinette blinks. She can’t tell of Alya’s joking or not, but it makes complete and total sense that Adrien would be  _ privately tutored.  _ He’s just too… Adrien for anything else. “How rich is he?”

“Thinking about gold digging?”

Marinette shakes her head as she towels her hair again. “Genuine curiosity. He doesn’t talk to me about anything.”

Alya pauses. “Wait, you really don’t know?”

“Uhm?”

Alya purses her lips, and passes her the clothes that hangs off of her arm. “I wonder why he hasn’t told you? Let’s just say that Adrien is the son of one of the most famous demons out there. Also, here, I got you a bodysuit since you’re not wearing underwear.”

Most famous demon out there? Does that make him rich? Or is it famous in a  _ bad  _ way? Does that still make him rich? She just wants to know how much money he has, but now she can’t stop biting her bottom lip in thought.

“Want me to fix your makeup?”

Marinette takes the fabric out of her hands, and nods happily. “Who needs underwear anyway?”

“Most people.” Alya raises a brow, fixing Marinette’s choker back into place. “Even succubi, sometimes, use underwear. Right?”

Marinette pouts harder. “You tell anyone that I wear granny panties when I’m alone and I’ll suck your clit so hard you’ll see stars.”

Alya laughs harder. Marinette smiles to herself as adoration swells in her chest at seeing her friend giggle and laugh and tease with her. It’s been so long since she’s had that in her life-- someone who tends to her and cares for her like a fellow Cradle mate. 

She misses the days where they’d go through each other closets and help each other dress, or help each other braid each other’s hair while lounging around in the common rooms of the brothel. She misses waking up to a Cradle mate storming into her room with a problem that she could help with quite literally a swivel of her hand.

_ Marinette, my favorite necklace broke! _

_ Marinette, she stole my shirt! _

_ Marinette, I made you a piece of jewelry, do you want it? _

_ Marinette, do you want to go out together and bring in the bread? I’ll pay! _

It hurts her heart to think about them, about the warmth that used to keep her soul intact. She fingers at her choker absentmindedly, thinking about them. 

She’s heartbroken still, even after hundreds of years, and tends to it like an open wound. The thoughts of one day experiencing happiness like that again was what kept her from dying in Stockholm, and was what kept her from truly deteriorating when she was originally kicked out.

And, yeah. Alya is just her breath of fresh air after being in shitholes for the past hundreds of years. Alya’s the closest thing she has right now to a  _ true  _ Cradle mate, even if she has  _ no idea.  _ Her and Nino, actually. Marinette has no idea how to bring it up, and she’s not sure she’ll be able to explain it if the need ever arises. And for that, Marinette will strive to give Alya everything she deserves, even if it costs her as she continues to feed on table scraps. Wealth, fame, fortune--  _ love,  _ if Alya ever wants it.

Alya’s quick to help her into the fabric, helping her zip up in the back. Oh, it’s lovely. Completely see through mesh with just such a slim band of black fabric to keep her from flashing unwilling people, which she’s glad about. 

She’s not a monster. 

She understands that some people don’t want to have anything to do with her sexually-- not because she’s a succubus, but because humans are just different. Sexuality is different for them. Her last boyfriend is total proof of that, after he bitched about her bringing home a guy.  _ Prude. _

What a laugh.

The teddy is perfect, in her size, and it’s something she bought to keep in the side closet that Alya has full of spare clothes. Most of them are uniforms for Luka in case a bottle explodes on his shirt or pants, and Marinette’s already had to stop herself multiple times over from smelling too hard at the fabric for that wonderful orgasm scent that sticks to everyone around her. 

There’s clothes for Nino, too, for when he just feeds too much and his shirt is nothing but a wet rag. Alya herself keeps a couple of blouses nearby in case she has to go into any dreaded meetings for something or the other, and it’s not often that Alya gets to go downstairs and actually enjoy the club’s atmosphere.

Marinette’s wormed an outfit or two or ten into the closet. It’s not like there isn’t any space left for other people. And Alya doesn’t mind-- she’s yet to complain about it. Besides, if there’s something that Alya likes, she’s always more than welcome to borrow it off of Marinette. It’s not hard for any of them to do a simple alteration spell on clothes and make it bigger or smaller to fit correctly.

Marinette tosses her hair over her shoulder as Alya helps smooth down the bodysuit, and reaches for her favorite lipstick to apply onto her lips.

“No, I think this one will look better.”

“You think so?” Marinette pouts when Alya takes the tube off of her hands and replaces it with another. Redder, brighter, one that matches her natural red lip color but not exactly what she’s going for. “You don’t think switching a red lipstick for  _ another  _ red lipstick is weird?”

“This one lasts better,” And Alya goes through with uncapping the tube and dots at Marinette’s lips for her. “Besides, if you’re trying to impress Adrien or Luka, you know you’re going to have to use your best parts of yourself.”

Marinette tries not to squirm as Alya concentrates on making the lines perfect and even on her plush lips, and she’s grateful that Alya is able to stand so close now that she’s used the mouthwash. 

She  _ likes  _ being close to Alya. 

She  _ likes  _ the quietness that Alya gives her brain when she’s focused on something, and it’s refreshing to have absolutely no visions pounding into her mind. She doesn’t mind the sexual desires of others, duh, but it’s  _ different _ to have completely nothing there for once.

“Are we still on for brunch tomorrow?”

“Hey, no talking, I can’t put on your lipstick if you talk,” Alya swats at her ass.

She can’t stop herself from gasping. Sparks fly across her sex like a firework-- a few more of those and they’ll have a  _ party _ upstairs in Alya’s office. “Oh! Hurt me more, won’t you Mommy? I’m so  _ close.” _

“Babe,” Alya just rolls her eyes, trying to keep her amusement in her mouth, drawing the perfect outline of her lips before she fills it in. “I’m not waking up at eight because you decided to drag me to a spin class just for you to cancel as soon as I wake up.”

Alya likes to sleep a lot.

“You think they’re going to tire me out?” Marinette makes a face. As  _ if. _

Alya’s smile darkens. “No. I think you’re just going to be busy.”

Sure, Luka’s admitted that he managed to keep Adrien for a week straight. Stamina off the charts--  _ oh she’s getting so wet just thinking about it again-- _ but she’s always known that by the way that Adrien can keep up when they’re on the dancefloor. 

She  _ loves _ seeing Adrien dance. 

He’s hardly breathless when they circulate between barstool and dancefloor in their own hivemind-like way, always going back and forth together without even verbally communicating with each other, and she usually dances till she’s glistening with sexual tension. She knows that Adrien has stamina, if he can dance for just as long as her, and frequently as her, over and over again for weeks. A man who can keep up with her is the biggest present someone can ever give her.

She has to remind herself not to let her hand weasel down her bodysuit as she thinks about it.

But. 

But but but. 

Even with all that stamina, it’s not likely that they’ll be able to keep going with her after the second or third come. She’s not kidding when she tells people that she’ll take everything they have, even when a demon doesn’t take her warnings seriously. They crash and burn on the first night sometimes when they don’t listen to her.

It’s fine. She’s totally fine with that. She knows that demons and succubi are different when it comes to sexual stamina-- they definitely are, or else she’ll be out of a job. And if the demon didn’t know about the differences before, they know after she’s done with them.

She’s happier when she has enough time to wring them out to the point where there’s nothing they can possibly give her. Luka, for example, would’ve been tapping out the moment she’d decided to keep going under the counter.

She’s a considerate lover. But also maybe a little selfish.

“Luka’s big,” She keeps her mouth as still as possible as she continues to fuss with her hair. Maybe it’ll look better dry. She twirls her hand to make her hair flat against her scalp and looks at herself appreciatively in the mirror, Alya scrutinizing and making her lips beautiful. Alya pays too much attention to the details, it’s what makes her so successful. And disorganized. Too many boxes pile up in her office. “He’s so  _ big.” _

“Is he?”

“If I had a gag reflex, I would’ve  _ died.” _ Marinette sighs happily. She fingers her choker. “He was shaking so hard, the poor thing. He’s never been with a succubus before, did you know that?”

Alya picks out a lip brush from the acrylic cup stained with dried red nail polish with a laugh. “Let me finish with your lipstick before you bite it all off.”

Marinette sighs again. “I just wanted him to continue using me even after he came down my throat. It was so wonderful. He tastes so  _ good, _ Alya, like water after crossing the desert alone for weeks.”

That hits too close to home.

If Alya can read her thoughts, she doesn’t say anything. “Thank goodness to whatever moral you have up there in your head that made you stop-- you could’ve made him lose a sale or two if you’d kept going.”

“Alya, he’s not going to be able to  _ stand _ tomorrow. I promise you that you’re going to have the schedule someone else for tomorrow night’s shift.”

Alya pauses with wide eyes. “Oh. Are you seriously-- like, you’re going to take everything?”

Marinette nods. “I’m not sure how I’m going to, but yes. Absolutely _ yes. _ I’m going to try my best to get him to be nice and happy with me, but he’s going to be too big to fit normally.”

Alya goes back to painting her lips. “Oh yeah? What are you going to do?”

“Only let him in my mouth? Anal? Prolong the inevitable? Pray to God?” Marinette whimpers at the idea of him forcing her walls to open up to him, her cheeks heating. She continues to finger at her choker to keep herself from twitching her hands down her legs.

Alya rolls her eyes at whatever desire Marinette ends up sending her. “How long did you take to get him off?”

She wants to bite her lip, but chooses not to ruin Alya’s makeup because she’s  _ such a good girl. _ “Seven minutes?”

“That long?”

“It could’ve been less, I honestly can’t tell time when I’m getting people off.” She confesses easy, trying not to pout and make Alya scowl. She pulls back before she ruins the makeup as she whines. “Oh, but it doesn’t matter, Alya, I want him to feed me for the rest of my life. He’s just so good at what he does, like he was born to put his dick in my mouth. Or maybe I was born to put my mouth on his dick. He’s  _ perfect.” _

Alya follows her back against the wall with a brush in her hand and a soft grip on Marinette’s chin in another, scrutinizing the symmetry of Marinette’s perfect lips.

She’s sated and happy. 

Demon come is good to her, and it feeds well, and it always keeps her eyes looking a lot more sparkly for the following week if she gets enough of it. Marinette’s cleaned out sleeves of demons before, back when she couldn’t stop herself from wasting away and needed help surviving, and she knows the feeling of comfort that curls in her stomach at her meal. 

Well, it’s not good for all succubi. She knows that some people in her Cradle hated the taste of the candy coating, going on and on about how it tasted synthetic and fake. No matter how much she fed them and took care of them, some Cradle mates just didn’t learn to appreciate having good taste. Some succubi look too hard at gift horses in the mouth.

The first post-Cradle fuck she’d gone through had been with a demon, and while she can’t remember the person at all, she remembers that it had kept her fed enough to find a place to stay for the time being, and kept her warm enough to sleep.

She used to have humans that would show up at her door, when she’d first been kicked out of the Cradle, and their loyalty to her mouth had been humorous to her. But even with all her sexual appeal, it wasn’t as convenient to go her as it was to show up at the brothel. Her doors had closed within weeks. She’d packed up and moved onto another city after securing a demon for one night, keeping her fed enough to bail town.

Demons of all shapes and sizes have been her salvation when she can’t get enough humans around. They’re a little more shifty about it, like they don’t believe that all she wants is come, but some are more than willing to help her out-- and  _ those  _ are the demons that have been with succubi before. She isn’t sure if demons know just how good their come is for succubi, and she worries that if they ever figure out her kind is  _ definitely  _ going to go extinct from the power play.

Alya looks pleased when she steps back and lets Marinette look at her lips in the mirror. Her lips taste chalky and matte as she swirls her tongue on it, and she loves the way it makes her mouth so expressive. If she could, she’d kiss Alya straight on the mouth.

She settles on her cheeks, instead, squeezing the demon into her arms as she hugs. “Alya, I love you.”

Alya laughs, and uses her beautifully toned arms to squeeze back. “I love you too, babe. Don’t forget to put on your skirt before you leave.”

Oh, right. The teddy isn’t the only thing she’s going to wear. Shame, she loves the way her ass looks when she’s in a thong. “Is it necessary?”

“Depends.” Alya’s eyes glitter and sparkle like super nova stars with how much humor that exudes off of her when she pulls away. “If the cops show up to deal with the bathroom coke situation and your entire ass is out and showing, they might fine you for indecent exposure.”

Marinette scoffs, picking up a brush to wipe highlighter at her cheeks. “Oh, please. I’m sure they’ve seen worse.”

“Still won’t stop them from showing up and fining you.” Alya cocks her head. “Babe?”

Marinette swipes at her eyes with long-lasting mascara. “Yes?”

“What’s going on with your desires right now?”

Marinette turns away from the mirror to look at her. “Uhm, I don’t know. What are they? I can’t exactly read them, you know.”

“Usually you’re full of wants to fuck Adrien till he can’t feel his knees, or get Luka to use you like a fleshlight-- which, fair.” Alya’s smile shows teeth. They’re long, pointed white fangs that make Marinette’s inner thighs sticky on instinct. “But you are off the  _ charts  _ longing for a house right now.”

Shit. She needs to keep her thoughts in control-- sometimes it’s hard for her not to feel self conscious in front of Alya when she’s able to read her like an open book but there’s nothing for Marinette to read back. She feels  _ human, _ almost, looking at Alya and not being able to use any powers at her disposal to get a glance at what’s happening in her head.

“I’m looking to buy property in the area,” Marinette bluffs as easy as it is to blink. “Got any ideas of a good view?”

“Well, it’s not like there’s anywhere with a lakeside view,” Alya leads her out of the bathroom with a pout, pushing boxes out of the way to create more of a walkway. Alya’s already taking inventory of prospects for her. “Do you have a budget? Any particular area in Paris you want to stay in?”

Marinette smiles. “We should talk about this more tomorrow. I have a competition to get to. Make sure that if you get there before me you ask for light ice in my juice?”

Alya’s quick to grab her laptop off the couch to start looking for properties, but stops when she registers what Marinette’s said. “Competition? What competition?”

“I got Adrien to agree to come home with me for a contract.” She shrugs, easy.

Alya is stuped, mouth parted in surprise. “I can’t believe it’s that easy.”

“You and me both! I need to make as many people come as possible in order to win-- I’m not even allowed to touch myself. Do you know how hard that was when I literally had Luka in my  _ mouth?  _ I should be considered a hero.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Right?”

“You’ve been flirting with him for, what, a  _ year? _ And  _ that’s _ what makes him crack? You betting him that you can make more people orgasm than he can shove into the bathroom line?” Alya places a hand on her small waist. She’s the perfect hourglass shape, made more dramatic by the flowy satin camisole top that she’s tucked into her pants, and Marinette can’t help but follow her wide hips down to how her legs look perfect in the jeans and thick heels. “If I had the time for it, I’d go down there and smack him, even  _ if _ he’s an Agreste. It’s not fair to you.”

“Oh, kinky.” Marinette bites on a fingernail, snapping her eyes back up before she gets too distracted. Her voice goes breathy. “You know I’m a fan of slapping. It humbles people, you know. Can I watch?”

Alya rolls her eyes and huffs to herself as she sits back down. She moves her fingers against the trackpad to wake up her laptop, bringing harsh white light back into the office to blend with the dim lights surrounding them by the single tripod lamp in the corner. “Make sure to put on your skirt before you leave, if you’re so keen on winning the competition. Your ass will look good in it, I promise. No one will be able to resist you.”

Marinette zips up the black fabric before she forgets to, and toes back on her heels. She  _ does _ look good. Oh my. “What are you up to on your computer, anyway?”

“Oh, nothing.” Her eyes are glittering.  _ Everything. _ “I’m going to look up some apartments around here for you.”

“I’ll come back later for my purse,” Marinette steps over a pack of collapsed boxes, and tries not to get too close to any piles of paper as they rattle from the bass of Nino’s music. She tosses a kiss over her shoulder and Alya catches it with a hand without even looking up from her computer.

“Good luck!”

“Don’t need it!”

* * *

“Get out.”

Adrien hates.  _ Hates. _ Bathroom duty.

Seriously, this is  _ horrible. _ He would rather deal with Marinette when she’s angry, which is  _ also  _ something he never wants to deal with in his life for as long as he lives. It’s that bad. 

It’s awful. 

Marinette is a crier when she’s angry, and is prone to throwing her shoes around. He’s never seen a succubus produce so many tears in his life, but Marinette just continues to color him surprised over and over. Not to mention that her heels are sharp enough to take eyes out if she throws them right. Nino unfortunately has a bruise still on his hip from last week when she’d been aiming for Adrien instead.

_ I want Adrien to get lost. _

Nathaniel barely pays attention as he continues to swallow around a human’s dick. He’s kneeling on his ankles, black combat boots crinkling from their position, and his leggings are practically see-through from how much leg they have to cover when he stretches them out at the knee. He’s not even using his hands as he works on the human, instead he’s touching and feeling himself up over his sports bra. His tongue is out of his mouth as he continues to suck on the tip end of the human’s dick, and it’s wrapped tightly around the base.

Lord, their tongues  _ are  _ a lot longer than he’d thought.

Adrien’s eye twitches. “Nathaniel, get  _ out.” _

The bathroom is hot and sticky, and the walls pulse with the sound of the bass outside and from Nathaniel’s weird succubus magic. It pushes and pulls as he sucks hard on the cock in front of him, as if he’s mirroring the movement of the walls to the movement of his hollowed cheeks. Adrien sees the arousal in it-- truly, he  _ does-- _ but he feels more  _ over _ it than  _ horny _ about it.

Nathaniel pops the dick out of his mouth with a wet sigh, his earrings twinkling from the movement. His hand pumps hard. “Want to join us?”

“No. I want you to get out of the bathroom.” Was he created for this? Is this his life’s purpose? To harass succubi to get out of a bathroom stall? To get so accustomed to seeing someone on their knees-- ankles, whatever-- in the club’s bathroom that he doesn’t even get aroused anymore? He’s not sure what his mom would say if she knew about this, and the more and more he deals with this, the less he wants to think about his parents. 

Lord, what would his  _ dad _ say?

He shudders. That’s not important right now.

_ I want to come in this guy’s mouth. I want that other guy to stop watching me get sucked off. _

The human looks almost ashamed as to what’s happening. Adrien is only half sure that humans can’t see how long succubi tongue actually is, but it doesn’t feel any less disconcerting when Nathaniel’s tongue ravels back into his mouth with a sigh. 

“You already know what’s going to make me stop.” He’s suckling on the underside, puffing hot breaths. He starts moaning, stars in his eyes, looking up at the human who makes eye contact with him.

_ I want Marinette. I want Marinette to come home. I want Adrien to take me to where Marinette is. I want Adrien and Luka present when I talk to Marinette. I need to talk to Marinette. _

Adrien twitches again. 

“I don’t know where she is. Go find her yourself, if you need to see her that badly.” He drags a hand over his face, careful of the family ring on his finger. If only his family could see him now.  _ This _ is what he came here to do, in his life. 

Yes, dad, his studies of the human nature are doing great, thanks.

No, dad, he didn’t come home early because of anything demon and succubi related, because that would be  _ stupid. _

He hates bathroom duty. Hates hates hates it. Hates hates hates  _ hates _ it.

“Hold that thought.” And Adrien  _ watches--  _ with his own  _ eyes-- _ as Nathaniel’s tongue unravels again like a snake and takes hold of the human’s dick. It’s slithery against the hardened skin of the human’s cock, and it reminds Adrien so well of a boa constrictor as each individual piece in the coil moves by itself. Nathaniel lifts his hand that’s on the human’s pants and pinches the air between two fingers, and  _ sighs _ as he pulls his pinched fingers down. Adrien can’t stop himself from visibly recoiling in confusion as the human sputters and comes--  _ hard-- _ down Nathaniel’s throat. 

What the hell is that pinchy succubi bullshit? He’s never seen Marinette do  _ that _ before.

Then again, he  _ does  _ close the door before she’s able to finish, whenever she drags someone into the bathroom with her. He’d jizz in his pants like a virgin if he’d watched her come, oops. And there’s no doubt in his mind that Marinette would laugh and call him a dog for it. Maybe Marinette does the pinchy hand movement too, and he’s never realized up until now. But what the hell is it? What in hell’s name did Nathaniel just do?

_ I want to come in this guy’s mouth. _

The human’s completed desire to come feeds into him like a stale box of french fries. They’re greasy, cold, and brittle to the touch in his stomach, and Adrien wants nothing more than a drink or two to wash the taste out. He hopes that Luka can help him out with that. Although he’s not so sure anymore that Luka is standing, after whatever Marinette did to him.

He crosses his hands on his chest, unamused. “Are you done?”

Nathaniel slides the human out of his mouth with a wet pop, gasping high and fingering at his choker. “I’m satisfied.”

_ I want to get out of here. _

The human struggles to put their pants back on before escaping the bathroom. Adrien feeds the second completed desire with a pinched face, scowling at the french fries taste in his mouth. He’s not going to any fast food place  _ any  _ time soon. No matter how drunk he gets in the next year. No matter how drunk  _ Luka  _ gets.

Luka is notorious for being impossible to drink with. He’s a lightweight, poor guy. No wonder he decided to take up making the drinks in the nightclub, instead of buying them.

And definitely, under any circumstances, he is not going out with anyone to eat fast food. No matter how tired Nino is and Alya doesn’t want to cook.  _ No  _ fast food. Ever.  _ Even _ if Marinette somehow is finally convinced to stay longer at the club than she usually is-- maybe she didn’t find anyone to go home with-- and she asks to go to the nearest place. No no no.

Nathaniel’s palming himself through his leggings appreciatively, unsquatting himself from the floor. His cheeks are flushed from feeding, and he can’t resist the urge to sigh and whine as he licks his teeth clean. “So, are you going to take me to Marinette? Or am I going to keep waiting for her the entire night? There’s lots to eat, so I’m sure she won’t mind me sticking around for a little while longer.”

“I don’t--” Adrien resists the urge to just leave. It’s a big urge. “Are you incapable of finding her yourself?”

“She won’t listen to me if I go up to her alone. She’ll just run away. She’s done it before.” Adrien cannot fathom why Marinette would try to escape from Nathaniel. Annoyance? Fear? Irritation? It’s all three of the emotions combined into the pit that swirls in Adrien’s head. “But she won’t leave if you and Luka are there.”

Marinette isn’t this bad, right? Maybe it’s just because Marinette is probably older than the guy in front of him. And because Adrien likes her. Adrien doesn’t know how puberty works for succubi, if they even have it, but he’s on the fence about how old this succubus really is. He can’t be any older than him, and that’s not saying much-- the Renaissance was a  _ great  _ time to be born. But that makes Adrien the youngest demon in the club, since Adrien is most definitely sure that Luka is from the times of Caesar. Maybe even more ancient. 

His brow lifts despite himself, his instincts bristling again at the accusation of Marinette hiding away. “Any reason why?”

Nathaniel’s face grimaces as he tries to find reason, and his eyes are shiny and electrifying from feeding. “It’s just better if you two are there. Trust me.”

Adrien wants to kill him. He’s not going to, because his mom didn’t raise a violent demon-- but  _ Luka _ was never raised with that type of civility-- at least, that’s what he’s been told-- and Adrien wouldn’t be able to stop himself from helping out if Luka just-so-happened to take Nathaniel outside.

His instincts continue to bristle as Nathaniel licks at his fingers and straightens his leggings, a thick heavy line hot against his left thigh. Adrien’s not completely sure as to why he continues to feel prickly when he’s near Nathaniel. He’s not sure if it’s a  _ territorial  _ thing or just plain  _ hatred. _

He doesn’t like it when the people he cares about are threatened.

Fine, yes, he’ll admit it to her if he has to. He  _ cares  _ about Marinette. Probably more than he should let her know. Adrien cares for Marinette-- he does, he  _ truly  _ does-- which is probably why his hatred for Nathaniel just continues to spike higher and higher when he realizes that Nathaniel is literally attempting to eat all of her food.

“I won’t. But fine.” He runs a hand against his face. “We can go find her. Is this going to cause a fight of some kind?”

For once, Nathaniel chooses to keep his mouth closed.

It’s a joyous occasion.

Nathaniel treds behind Adrien as they push back through the club. Their eyes dilate wide in the low light, and Adrien trusts that he’s following behind as they make it through the fog of desires to make it to the employee access door.

_ I want to go back on the dancefloor after finishing this drink. _

_ I want my friends to get here faster. _

_ I want my friend to text me she’s okay. _

_ I want the DJ to play a different song. _

_ I want to so badly get that guy’s number. _

Adrien pats at his chest in order to make sure he doesn’t drown from all the pinging.

People weave and bob out of Adrien’s way as he walks through, keeping his face light and neutral. He doesn’t want to scare anyone off with his face, but he’s scowling hard and is trying his best to keep it from showing.

Luka makes eye contact with him at the bar when they pass him. His eyes are  _ swirling.  _ There’s a mutual understanding between him and Luka as his eyes glaze over to Nathaniel, who continues to smirk to himself in joy that he’s gotten the two of them between his fingers. Adrien leaves Luka at the bar, leading Nathaniel into the employee door with a shove.

It’s quieter after they push through the access door. The hallway is abnormally long, decently well lit, with multiple doors leading to various different office rooms and a staircase in the back that leads to the only actual office in use which is for Alya. Marinette is most likely taking shelter in there, or it’s quite literally possible that Marinette’s already bailed. Adrien isn’t sure how good succubi can smell others in the area, or how far away their range has to be, but he can’t smell Marinette’s scent anywhere.

But if she’s  _ anywhere  _ in the club still, not out on the dancefloor or sitting at her barstool, she’s in Alya’s office. The two of them are constantly attached to each other at the hip when Marinette is done and satisfied with the amount of food she’s had for the night, and although Adrien’s not sure why she’d be up there when they’re in the middle of a competition, it’s likely that she’s taking a break far away from all the noise. She’s complained multiple times before that her ears hurt from loud noises, but continues to ignore his question when he asks why she comes to night clubs regardless.

She also calls him a territorial dog whenever he offers her that she should go into coffee shops and hit on people instead. It’s not a territory thing. It’s a coffee-houses-don’t-have-Nino-playing-loud-music thing.

To his surprise, he catches Marinette stalking down the stairs on sculpted legs.

_ I want to have a home. I wish I had a house. I want to have a place to go to at night. I want to be able to put my mugs permanently in cabinets. _

Adrien can’t help but frown at the starlight pinging in his chest. Her desires are completely different than normal, but he doesn’t have the time to worry about it too much. She’s deep in thought, it looks like, as she purses her lips in concentration on whatever she’s thinking of while she’s going down the stairs.

She tosses her hair over her shoulder and smoothes out her new clothes, and Adrien inhales the fresh scent on her. It’s not often that he’s able to smell Marinette without the overwhelming amount of sex that exudes off of her, and he takes a moment to appreciate how nice she looks. Somehow, even though it’s almost entirely see through mesh with just a black band on her chest, her outfit is more conservative than before.

She looks  _ good  _ in black, he thinks, trying to keep his eyes from tracing the lines of her hips in the skirt. Black mesh on porcelain skin is hot. So,  _ so _ hot. She has no idea that they’re there, even with her good sense of smell, and Adrien can’t keep himself from staring at her like she’s the moon and stars.

Nathaniel straightens his shoulders at the sight of her, and Adrien tries not to wince as something changes in the air, desires swirling hard and crystalizing in the fog of his chest.

_ I want Marinette to listen to me. I want Marinette to hear what I have to say. _

He hopes he doesn’t have to break up a succubi fight. He’s not sure just how strong Nathaniel’s elbows could possibly be, and Marinette is pretty good at weaseling out of people’s grapplings. He’d be able to take on Nathaniel for sure, pointy elbows be dammed, but there wouldn’t be any telling on how Marinette will react when she makes eye contact with them. Hopefully Luka will come in soon for a break, not even as strong as he is will he be able to break up a fight between two succubi. He doesn’t have enough hands.

She freezes at the last step when her head snaps to look up. Instantly her face curls into surprise and awe at the sight of the two of them, before settling hard into panic. Her fangs are sharp and small when she bares them, trying to keep Nathaniel away. “Please no. Please,  _ no. _ I just-- I’m finally happy.”

“Marinette?” Nathaniel is antsy, to the right of Adrien. He tries reaching out to her. “Marinette, you’re-- you look so much worse than last time-- you’re  _ starving.” _

Is it that noticeable? Adrien tries to look for what Nathaniel might see, but she’s just as toned and well-shaped as she’s always been. Probably even healthier looking, now that she’s taken half of whatever Luka had in his dick prior to her feeding off of him. Her eyes are shiny and brighter than usual.

Marinette swallows, and curls into herself protectively. “No. Please, stop talking-- just leave, Nathaniel. Please. I don’t want you here.”

_ I want Marinette to hear me out. I want Marinette to come home. I want Luka to be here while I talk to her. _

_ I want Nathaniel to leave. I want to know if Nathaniel’s harassed Luka or Adrien. I want Nathaniel to beg for forgiveness if he’s hurt them in any way. I want Luka to be here with Adrien. I want to know that I’m going to be okay. I wish I had a house to hide in. _

What the  _ hell  _ is happening with that last part? Does Marinette not have a place to stay?

The desires are small and powerful in his chest-- and they ping with a metallic sound within him like a coin hitting up against glass. The two of them are instantly a storm of wants and desires that circulate so hard in the fog that he’s having trouble breathing.

So, he asks the obvious, panting into a hand. “Do you two actually know each other?”

Nathaniel licks at his canines. “Of course we do. She’s my Cradle mate.”

_ I want Marinette to come back home. _

“You smell horrible.” Marinette’s voice is small at the other side of the hallway. Adrien’s not sure what she means, Nathaniel smells like  _ sex. _ It’s nothing Adrien isn’t used to, after staying close to Marinette for so long, but maybe he’s missing something. “Please go home, Nathaniel. I-- I don’t want you here. I’m happy. I’m so happy here.”

“Happy?  _ Happy?” _ Nathaniel frowns, eyes sharp as he looks over her body. “Marinette.”

She looks uncomfortable. “I’m fine where I am. I’m so happy.”

Nathaniel tosses about ten different phrases in his mouth as he tries to figure out what sentence is more important, looking at her in complete shock. “When was the last time you ate? You’re  _ starving.  _ Have you realized that? Have you looked in the mirror? You’re wasting away, Marinette.”

“I wonder why I’m starving!” Marinette curls into herself harder, grimacing to herself. “Just-- please leave. I don’t want to have this fight. And you know demons don’t like it when there’s two of us in the same place. You might start a fight and I don’t-- I don’t want to be kicked out.”

“We wouldn’t kick you out.” Adrien frowns.

“Oh wow.” Nathaniel’s brows raise. “Look at that. A docile demon.”

Marinette’s face pinches in worry. “Nath.”

_ I want Nathaniel to stop talking. I want Luka and Adrien and Alya and Nino to still be my friends after this. I want a house to hide in. I want to be happy. _

“Did you train all of them to behave this way?”

“Watch it. Marinette didn’t train us.”

“No, you’re right. She hasn’t-- not with you, at least.” Nathaniel’s eyes flick down to Adrien’s crotch. “But the  _ bartender,  _ that’s a different story.”

Adrien’s eyes narrow. “What?”

“Is it possible for you to not ruin my life?” Marinette’s mouth curls downwards, her teeth poking through her frown. That soft glow and sparkle in her eyes is starting to drain, like she’s trying to hide it from Nathaniel in case he tries to take it from her. “Is it possible for you to stop making everything about yourself and stop dragging me every time I find somewhere I want to stay? Can’t I be happy?”

“You can be happy. You can be happy with  _ us.” _

_ I want Marinette to come home. _

Adrien doesn’t know what to do.

“We can feed you, Marinette. You’re so famished-- I don’t even have to read your mind. You’re  _ salivating _ over this guy-- but it’s okay, Marinette, you don’t have to do that anymore. You don’t have to keep running off anymore, you don’t have to keep telling people that you’re nomadic by choice.  _ We _ can feed you.”

“Feed me?” Marinette’s breath goes ragged.  _ “Feed me? _ Are you stupid?”

Nathaniel tosses a lock of red hair over his shoulder, straightening out his spine. “I know you can smell it. I know you’re desperate for food. Isn’t it  _ intoxicating? _ A custom blend and everything. Do you like it?”

“Absolutely not.” Her face pinches harder, as if she’s found her ground, and her eyes blaze with anger. Hopefully she doesn’t start crying soon, or use her heel to puncture a hole into Nathaniel’s chest. “You can’t feed me with  _ synthetics.  _ Succubi need actual come to survive, Nathaniel, not whatever’s in your system right now. What’s happened to you? It hurts to be anywhere near you, you smell horrible. How did this happen?”

Nathaniel is still playing strong, but something about him is starting to twitch, like staying in front of Marinette is making his well-developed story and personality crack at any hairline fracture. Adrien can only tell because Nathaniel’s shoulders start to sag, and it looks like he’s starting to revert in on himself. “I can tell you all about it, if you’d listen to me.”

Marinette’s eyes swirl with color. “No. Leave. I don’t want you here. Leave me alone, Nathaniel. I can’t keep doing this, I’m  _ tired.” _

_ I want Nathaniel to leave me alone. I want to eat. _

“I want you to hear me out.” Nathaniel’s smile curls dark at the magic words. Adrien winces at the contract settling into his chest. 

God damn it. 

Marinette notices his face twitch almost immediately, because her eyes flicker to him, and then to the door. He watches the shine in her eyes dim again as she’s formulating thoughts, sucking on her bottom lip in concentration.

_ I want to escape. I want to run away. I want to leave the city. I don’t want to leave Luka and Adrien and Alya and Nino. I want to complete this last contract for Adrien and then hide under my bedsheets. _

Adrien feels her. He’s sensible, of course, and he’s never liked watching her struggle.

“Fine.” Marinette all but barks out her answer, tears threatening the sides of her eyes. She’s  _ angry.  _ “I’ll hear what you have to say.”

Adrien is force fed something that tastes like dark chocolate through Nathaniel’s completed wish. He winces as it settles badly in his stomach. “S-should I get Luka?”

“He’ll show up on his own, I’m sure of it.” Nathaniel’s mouth continues to curve upwards.

Marinette opens the door to one of the many various rooms on the first floor, the dust and the dirt in the unused room kicked up by their feet as they walk behind her. It’s a storage room, if Adrien can remember correctly. 

There’s extra barstools for when one breaks, extra tables for if they ever decide to actually deal with rush hour kitchen orders correctly instead of whatever they’re doing now. He speaks as if he works here, but it’s more likely that out of everyone here, Adrien’s the leech that feeds without giving back. 

The couch that used to stay in Alya’s office before she got another one is against the back wall, near a floor lamp, but it’s clean if not a little dusty. 

Marinette continues to move around the room, legs pretty and long with her stiletto heels. He’s never seen that skirt on her before. He likes it. It’s skin tight on her, and he likes the shape of her ass. “Does Luka and Adrien  _ have _ to be here?”

“Apparently.” Adrien mumbles under his breath, trying to think of anything else that isn’t  _ ass, ass, ass. _ “Nathaniel is being adamant about it.”

“I’m going to warn you now,” Marinette’s eyes sharpen, trying not to let her face sneer. He can’t read her emotions at all. “He’s going to do everything he can to try to humiliate me. He always does this. You and Luka may want to sit down for this one and just enjoy the show… it’s going to be a lot.”

Luka comes in as if he’s heard her call his name. He’s searching, and hesitant, and doesn’t relax when he catches Marinette thoroughly rattled and uncomfortable, worrying her lip between her teeth again. All Adrien can offer him is a shrug and a seat next to Marinette.

“So, are you ready to listen to me?” Nathaniel paces around the room. His grin is wicked as he twirls a lock of hair around his fingers, and plays with the buckle at his neck. He sighs happily as the attention in the room shifts to him, and his lips part in ecstasy to reveal baby fangs. “Oh, yes, Marinette, think  _ harder.  _ You know I love it when you get violent with me.”

Adrien hopes that Marinette isn’t contemplating throwing her shoes.

Marinette’s shoulders lift high against her ears, drumming her fingers along her upper arms as she curls her arms on her chest. She taps her heels on the floor as she debates on what to do, and Adrien watches for any curl in her spine indicating that she’s going to bend down and get a heel ready to throw. “I’ll only listen to you on one condition.”

Nathaniel stops moving, standing in front of the couch, waiting for whatever it is. His pale arms are open to her, red nails shining in the light of the room as he smiles. “Of course, Marinette. Anything for you. Anything for you to come home.”

_ I want him to continue standing. _

“Sit down on the couch.” She growls. No, Marinette  _ barks. _

There’s such anger and resolution in her voice directed towards Nathaniel that his eyes widen almost instantly, and he sits down faster than seems possible as if pulled down to the object. Marinette recoils back into her own chair in surprise, whimpering, losing all voice of anger as her eyes widen at Nathaniel who twitches.

_ I want him to get back up and pretend he didn’t do that. I want him to get back up and laugh. I want him to roll his eyes and say that it didn’t just happen. _

“No. No no no!”

“I--” Nathaniel swallows, eyes going glassy. “Oh,  _ yes-- _ yes-- I’ve missed this-- I’ve missed you so much, Marinette.”

“Why did you  _ sit?” _ Her eyes are wide, and she’s panicky. “No, no, you can’t force this onto me Nathaniel, I don’t  _ want to.” _

Nathaniel looks _breathless,_ fiddling with his choker to the point of moaning and whining. His cheeks flush in desire, baby fangs flashing white as he tongues them. “You-- you told me to sit-- and you know I do anything you ask of me, Cradle Holder--”

Marinette grimaces. “Get up and  _ leave, then!  _ I don’t want this, Nathaniel, you can’t come into my life and demand me to come back home and tell me you can feed me but then immediately do as I say, that’s not how that  _ works, _ you can’t do this. Please. I’m not your Cradler anymore, Nathaniel, it’s been almost a thousand years now I think. Please go home, Nathaniel,  _ please, _ this is humiliating enough.”

Adrien cannot, for the life of him, figure out what’s happening.

“Slow down.” Luka finally manages to find his voice. “Why does it matter that he sat down when you asked him to?”

Ask is too polite of a word, Adrien thinks. Luka’s hand that’s closest to his body twitches as if he heard him think that.

Marinette turns to face the two of them, leaning into her hip. Adrien’s eyes struggle to focus on anything that isn’t her legs. “Nathaniel is trying to get me to go back home by proving to me that he thinks I’m part of his Cradle, but-- but I’m  _ not--” _

Nathaniel pets himself down his sports bra. “Not ‘thinks’, it’s  _ knows--  _ you  _ are _ a part of the Cradle--”

Marinette whirls back to him. She grabs for his hair and  _ yanks. _ Superfluous moans and whimpers escape Nathaniel’s mouth like he’s coming in his leggings, and at this point, it’s quite possible he is. He’s shaking hard, his powerful thighs clenching hard enough to hurt. “Shut up. Shut  _ up.  _ You’re making me-- god, Nathaniel-- you’re-- please stop, Nathaniel. Please.”

_ I want to come. I want Marinette to help me come. I want her to treat me like the old days. I want her to make me feel good. _

“Oh, sure.  _ Friends. _ I’m sure that’s what you think they are.” Nathaniel laughs as she continues to pull at his hair, showing a long collum of white neck. His eyes are glassy and sparkling, like he can’t make up his mind whether to stay conscious through what seems to be a good time in his life, or pass out from pleasure. “Cradle Holders are very important succubi. They’re very rare, aren’t they? Wouldn’t you say, Marinette?”

_ I want to run away. I want to go home. I want a home that won’t kick me out after they have no more use for me. I want my Cradle to love me. _

“Miss Marinette here is a Cradle Holder, or Cradler for short. They’re the most important part of a Cradle, and I’m afraid that my Cradler has been missing for a couple hundred years.” Nathaniel moans again as she yanks at his hair some more. “Oh yes--  _ yes-- _ hurt me more, won’t you, Cradler? I’ve missed your touches so  _ much,  _ I can go all night with you I promise, I’ll be so good for you, just like I used to be-- I’ll be the most perfect little Cradle mate for you-- I’ll give you  _ everything _ you want.”

_ I want to come. I want to come so hard. I want to feed Marinette so well, just like she used to do for me. I want to prove to her that I’m good at my craft. I want her to be proud of me. I want her to feed on me. _

“What I want is for you to  _ leave, _ but you’re not doing that.” She frowns. “Do you know that even while I’m starving I can still kill you? Did you know that?”

Nathaniel’s eyes go wild with electricity. “I’d--  _ oh-- _ like to see you try. You’re too hungry to do that, aren’t you, Marinette? I can feel it, I can feel the hunger in you so clearly. You know it’s important for succubi to know everything about their Cradle, yes, and I know just how hungry you are. You’re so hungry you’re going to  _ collapse. _ How long have you been going through this famine, Marinette?”

Famine? Marinette is going through a famine?

_ I want to eat. I want food. I want a house. I want a home. I want someone to take care of me. _

Marinette groans. “Since you kicked me out! Is that what you want me to admit, Nathaniel? That I’m hungry?” 

“I didn’t kick you out,  _ Lila _ did. I came home to the Cradle torn apart!”

She rolls her eyes, ignoring him. “I’ll admit that I’m hungry, because it’s true. I’m at the equivalent of a human who only ate one frozen bagel for dinner in the past two weeks. I haven’t eaten correctly in-- I don’t know. The crusades?”

Adrien’s eyes widen. “What? The  _ crusades?” _

_ “Marinette.”  _ Luka recoils. “That’s so long ago.”

Nathaniel’s eyes go wild. “Crusades? Which one?”

“Does it matter? The first one, probably. Or second one. Who cares, I’m  _ hungry.  _ And you’re not helping by being here, showing how full you are to me. I’m so hungry I could kill you for showing up here like a plated hog.”

Luka straightens in his chair, trying to relax. “But you’ve at least eaten today, haven’t you?”

Marinette struggles to explain, going a little shy. “True succubi meals take  _ days, _ not a once or twice. I haven’t been able to find a group that’s been able to keep up with me. I’m so hungry that I’ll probably drain someone completely dry if someone actually tried offering themself to me. It’s why I keep taking different humans, not just one individual one. I’d kill them on accident.”

“Which means that you’re not strong enough for anything.” Nathaniel laughs as she whirrs back to look at him. “You can’t hurt me in any real way, can you?”

Marinette grits her teeth and points back to Luka and Adrien. “Fine.  _ Fine.  _ Then what could’ve happened if they found out you were bluffing? You’re not as strong as  _ you’re _ pretending to be, either. Luka would’ve had you for lunch without a fight. And Adrien  _ alone  _ would have snapped your neck in half with only one finger if he’d realized that you aren’t as strong as you’re showing off as, and I’ve never seen him even break a  _ toothpick _ before.”

“I realized that they’d kill me if I tried getting close to you, so I had to get creative.” Nathaniel seems to realize that it’s the wrong answer, because he grits his teeth. “Wait.  _ Wait.” _

Marinette fist _squeezes._ _“_ You threatened them? Are you fucking _stupid?”_

_ I want Nathaniel to suffer. _

Nathaniel’s eyes widen a fraction, and this time he shouts in actual pain. “No, I promise, I promise I didn’t, they’re fine and safe, I didn’t do anything. They’re fine. They’re  _ fine.” _

“He’s lying.” Adrien deadpans, and crosses his arms on his chest. Maybe he’s feeling a little sadistic, too, because he likes the idea of Nathaniel getting reduced to a pile of whimpers. “He threatened us when you were in Alya’s office.”

Nathaniel squeezes his thighs shut. “Wait-- hold on-- let’s talk about the definition--”

_ I want to suffocate him. _

“Nathaniel. Either you apologize or I’m going to eat everything you have in you and leave you like a raisin on legs. Synthetics  _ included.” _

“I’m--  _ seriously-- _ it’s not that bad, it was just a little  _ joke, _ right?” Nathaniel’s eyes widen when neither Luka or Adrien respond. “No one was actually scared, were they?”

_ I wish we could hurry this up. I want to go home with Adrien and Luka. _

“Apologize. Do you want to turn into a sun-dried tomato? Do you want me to take every single drop of energy out of you? I’m dying to know just how much use I can get out of you, even in my hungry state.”

“I--” 

“You’ve barked like dog the entire night, Nathaniel, and you’re willingly walking into my territory while I’m hungry. Want to go into hiding now? I’m so sorry to hear that, but I won’t let you. You want me to use  _ you _ as my personal fuck bag for the next week and a half?” Marinette pushes his head forward, still fisting his hair. 

Just how hungry  _ is _ Marinette, if Nathaniel continues to curl inwards in fear? “Please, no, wait, we don’t need to drain me dry-- we can compromise-- I’m not as strong as you are, Marinette, you know that succubi aren’t as resilient without food-- at least let me keep the synthetics--”

She growls. “I won’t be sweet to you. I won’t be kind. There’s a reason why I was the one who would go out and get enough for our Cradle to feed, and I had hoped to  _ god _ you never had to figure out why.  _ Apologise. Now.” _

“I’m-- I’m sorry.” He sounds like he means it,  _ lord.  _ He looks so scared, legs shaking, the thick line in his leggings never decreasing. “I’m sorry. I really am sorry. I needed you both to be here with me when I talked to her and I didn’t think of any other way. The only way to convince Marinette to come home is if you two turn her away.”

Marinette sags. “Now you’re being stupid on purpose. Have you read their brains at all? There’s nothing you possibly could do to make me look weird to them-- I’m  _ already _ the weirdest thing Adrien has ever seen.”

Adrien bristled.

“How was I supposed to know? What is he,  _ homeschooled _ or something?” Nathaniel continues, looking up at Marinette with such adoration in his eyes that it makes Adrien’s stomach curdle. “They’re obsessed with you. Maybe even love you.”

“I’m done here. Are you done humiliating me?” Marinette tosses him back into the couch, and Nathaniel grapples backwards to stay away from her. His leggings are completely stained, and he’s giddy as he thrums with energy, keeping his fist tight on the couch pillow.

“Not yet.” Nathaniel has the audacity to say, green eyes staining with ideas. “Have you showed them what you really look like? That’ll turn them away, won’t it?”

Marinette frowns. “They’ve seen me naked before. But sure, give me goat hooves or something stupid, go for it. See if Adrien won’t get hard-- he’s into the ‘orthodox succubi’ look. I’ll bet money on it if I have to. You want to dress me into the stupid human stereotypes of a demon to make me look weird? Try me, bitch.”

“Alright, enough. You’ve made your point already, and this isn’t going anywhere.” Luka manages to keep a frown on his face, although something tickles at the side of his chest as desires ping and dissipate into the fog. “Nathaniel, if your goal is to do something that will make Marinette hate you until the end of days, I suggest you don’t do it.”

_ I want to see how cute she looks with her horns and tail. _

Adrien tries not to roll his eyes as Luka doesn’t even bother looking embarrassed. The  _ class _ of some people. Sue him if he’s interested, but he’s not going to make it ping and curl into an actual desire in his chest, unlike  _ some  _ demons around here. Luka raises a brow in his direction as if he’s calling him out on his bullshit.

Maybe that was  _ Adrien’s _ desire, not Luka’s. Hm.

Nathaniel smiles. “Are you scared of what she actually looks like?”

Luka doesn’t even react. “I’ve seen succubi before, back when I used to work underground. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“But-- I mean. Lots of demons get afraid of the eyes and teeth and the tail.” Nathaniel flounders. 

Marinette groans. “Again, Nath, have you  _ read _ Adrien’s mind for longer than a minute? He’d jizz himself if he met  _ Jesus. _ Face it, Nathaniel, you’re not winning this. Go  _ home.” _

Adrien isn’t necessarily self conscious about what he could possibly be projecting out of him to give Marinette the impression that he’s into the stereotype of succubi, but he  _ is _ curious if his conservative upbringing is biting him more in the ass than normal. 

Humans have painted succubi over and over again since the beginning of time, sure, but the portraits aren’t  _ real. _ Marinette doesn’t really have full black eyes, or red skin, or massive horns, right? And if she does, it wouldn’t be  _ wrong _ of Adrien to find that attractive, would it?

Sue him for thinking they look lovely. He grew up an only-child in a stifling environment.

To find out that the people he used to study back in the day in the ancient textbooks his tutor taught him in are actually real, and not propaganda? That creatures so beautiful and sinful such as those portraits actually exist? He thought it was all fake.

“Let’s find out if you’re telling the truth, dear little Cradler.” With no other option other than to continue, Nathaniel flicks his wrist and twirls his fingers into the air. Adrien’s instincts bristle as the air warps, and Marinette lifts her arms up as her clothes disintegrate onto the floor, her clothes replaced with the smallest looking underwear Adrien’s ever seen on her skin.

No. Underwear isn’t the correct term at all.

It’s black, thin, and the bands go so high up her hips that it’s almost criminal. He’s seen thongs on Marinette before-- bathroom hookups come to mind, when he slams the stall door behind her when she can’t remember to as she gets ready to fuck someone senseless into the tile floor-- but this is just getting ridiculous. It’s the thinnest string he’s ever seen.

The new top, too-- if he can call it that-- is black and skin tight against her chest. It’s a thick band that reminds Adrien of Nathaniel’s collar choker, and it’s so tight against her tits that it almost flats them completely. Surprisingly, Nathaniel lets her keep the red satin choker on her neck, as if it’s not considered a clothing item but rather an integral part of Marinette herself.

She squeals as her tail pops out from behind her, curling around her calf in shame. Lord, she even has a  _ spade _ at the end of her tail-- and it curls against the length of her leg in embarrassment.

Her eyes are black, and her teeth are long. So much longer than he thought they’d be, and she can’t even close her mouth correctly without them popping out on the sides of her lips.

Her horns come next-- relatively small compared to the portraits he’d seen in the books, about the size of his fists. They’re cracked and splintered, faint fracture lines traveling up the sides of the horns. They’re black, similar in color to her tail, but they’re almost dull like she hasn’t been taking care of them correctly.

Lastly, as the spell completes, her skin color shifts to iridescent white, _ inhumanely _ white. Luka makes a noise of surprise. Adrien, too, looks at her with confusion-- she’s normally very pale, but he hadn’t expected that her true color would be anything other than red. Is this something to do with being a Cradler? He can’t wrap his head around it.

Nathaniel’s eyes widen in horror. “You’re even hungrier than I thought! Marinette, what happened to your beautiful red? A-and your  _ horns!  _ What happened to their length? How are you alive?” 

“I told you!” It’s impossible to understand her. She grimaces and pushes her teeth back in with the flat part of her tongue, giving herself back the baby fangs Adrien recognizes. “I’ve been hungry since the-- uh, eleven hundreds I think!”

Nathaniel’s face nearly drains of color himself as he gasps. “Marinette, I’ve never seen a succubi that doesn’t have any red pigment in them. How are you--”

Marinette looks down at herself as if she’s not understanding why he’s so afraid. “Oh. I guess I hadn’t looked at myself in a long time. This is pretty scary stuff.”

“Are you okay?” Adrien can’t stop looking at how her tail curls tight over her leg.

But Marinette still looks the same every other way, acting as if she’s not what looks like to be three seconds from passing out on the floor from starvation. She turns to Adrien with a smile. “Oh, yeah. This is just what I look like normally. Well, other than the white-skin part. I told you, Nathaniel, this wouldn’t freak them out.”

“I’m a little freaked out,” Luka cocks his head. “But more so about you being this hungry than anything else. Why didn’t you ask for help?”

“I’ll be fine, it’s not like one more day of this will kill me.”

Adrien’s eyes finally snap back up to Marinette’s pupiless eyes. It’s impossible to tell what exactly she’s looking at, given that her entire eye is black, but it feels as if she’s staring directly at him. “We could’ve gotten you more to eat.”

“I’m sure you could’ve,” Marinette laughs, showing teeth.

Nathaniel groans. “But you’re too prideful for that, aren’t you?”

Marinette turns back to Nathaniel, who shrinks slightly into the pillows. “Well, now that we’ve enjoyed seeing what I look like and all that, I still have a competition to win. Nathaniel, I want you to go home. I don’t want you here.”

“Deals off.” Adrien nearly bites his tongue from how disjointed his brain is to his mouth, surprising everyone in the room including himself. “There’s no way I’m going to make it a competition on who can feed more when you’re starving.”

“I can help--” Nathaniel winces as Marinette laughs.

“No.” Marinette doesn’t consider it.

“Absolutely not.” Luka crosses his arms.

Adrien shakes his head. “Definitely no.”

“It’s to see if he can feed as much as possible before you come, right?” Nathaniel twirls his fingers in the air, ignoring them entirely. “I can make you win the bet right now.”

“No, that’s not it at all, it’s the complete--” Marinette’s mouth opens in a squeak as Nathaniel pulls downwards at the air with pinched fingers. The air fills with the scent of hunger and sex that berates Adrien’s nose to the point of debilitating as Marinette struggles to breathe, shaking on bambi legs in her stilettos. She whines out a noise, biting a nail with her baby fang. She’s  _ beautiful, _ he thinks, before Marinette’s thighs glisten as she falls to her knees.

* * *

“I didn’t know you were so hungry.”

“I don’t try to tell people about it.” Marinette tries to not blatantly stare at Adrien’s arms. He looks so  _ strong.  _ How is it possible to be that defined? She squeezes her thigh together, still tacky from come. “People get put off by the fact that I need about a week or so of straight fucking in order to actually eat.”

She’s not afraid of anyone hearing her, even though they’re out in the open of the club’s parking lot. Even from the closed door, she can still hear Nino’s bass licking at her battered soul. It’s comforting to hear it, even from the outside. She likes the feeling of breathing cold air as she slips on her bike helmet, and letting the last breaths of Nino’s bassline fill her before she turns the ignition on her bike.

“A straight week, huh?”

“Normal people would die if they tried.” She shrugs into a shoulder, and bats her eyes up at him as her tail curls at her ankle. She hopes he can see it in the relative dark, but demons have always had better sense of sight than succubi. “I’m not sure someone even like  _ you _ would be able to survive.”

Adrien sends vision after vision of him exhausted, eyes rolling, as she takes everything he has with her mouth and pussy. It’s a beautiful thought-- even though the bedsheets look nothing like her’s in actuality. Maybe it’s Adrien’s bedroom-- makes sense, since she’s not one to have grey sheets. She’s beautiful in this vision of his, teeth poking through her smile as she continues to force him to orgasm over and over, nearly overstimulating him.

She doesn’t mind the idea at all. But it’s missing a key character in all the visions-- a certain forked-tongue demon that absolutely has more to him than he’s admitting to. Luka’s too easy going to be wrapped up with someone like Adrien. She wants to know more.

“Someone like me.” His mouth curls. “And who exactly is ‘someone like me’?”

She’s close enough to trace little circles onto Adrien’s shirt, and she loves how her red nails look like she’s swirling her fingers on his skin from how sensitive he is. He keeps shivering under her touches like he’s never been really touched before. Has he ever been with a succubus before? She can’t smell anything on him so far. “Oh, you know. Just a bit inexperienced when it comes to succubi. The both of you are. You two wouldn’t be the same afterwards.”

“You think we wouldn’t be able to handle a week of sex?” There’s something about him that makes her hesitate instead of laughing. There’s a bit of danger in his eyes when he raises his brow in a silent accusation, as if he’s trying to call her bluff. But. But but but.

But she’s too hungry. 

She’s too famished.

She’s too stuck in her self-preservation to even fathom bluffing about her abilities. If Adrien truly offers himself up to her for the next week, no amount of social class would keep him from bending the knee to let her feed. The pleasure would be too good-- the pain would be too mind numbing to stay away.

She purses her lips instead of outright saying that she’s right. “I’d like to see you two try. A week with Luka isn’t the same with me, you know.”

“The days will blend?”

She laughs. “It’ll be the longest week of your lives.”

“I wouldn’t mind it.” Adrien doesn’t even blink as he considers it. “I know for a fact that Luka wouldn’t, either.”

Visions of Luka on his back, too, completely fucked out makes her whine and finger at her choker. It’s a beautiful sight, watching herself in Adrien’s point of view as she licks and sucks at Luka’s neck and turning everything purple and blue. 

He can’t keep his breath longer than a split second as she forces orgasm after orgasm out of him with a sweet little hand as she curls her mouth into a toothy smile, licking his abs with her tongue completely extended. He  _ does _ have tattoos, apparently-- in this vision they’re thick coils of black in the shapes of snakes that take up most of his side, and she traces them with want and greed. 

She wonders if tattoos are actually real and not just a fantasy, but it’s likely that they  _ are _ real, given that Adrien’s seen Luka naked before. Hopefully. It’s almost too much to picture Adrien being fucked to an inch of his life from two years ago while the both of them were still wearing all of their clothes.

“A pity fuck?” Her smile curls dark regardless. “Oh, you monster. How can you hurt a girl’s feelings like this?”

He snorts. “Not pity. This isn’t us offering ourselves because we know you’re starving. It was my plan all along to let you use me until you were done.”

Her mouth goes dry. “Let me rim you.”

To her surprise, Adrien looks more confused than embarrassed. “What?”

“You won the competition.” She blinks at him slowly. Hungry hungry hungry hungry. She can taste how much he wants her. “And I ended up coming, which breaks the deal. I want to give you a treat. Also, I like the idea of using you until I’m full-- so, please?”

Immediately her head is filled with want and greed. 

Adrien’s polished shoes crunch the gravely floor underneath him as he steps back just a bit to lean up against Luka’s old pickup truck, surprised and concerned at how well she’s able to pick up on it. He’s out of his suit jacket, and his forearms are tan against the black of his pants. She watches him debate her words with an open mind, soaking in all the visions and thoughts that exude off of him like a wet sponge.

Marinette whines as he reaches over to her to button the last remaining button on his suit jacket on her, pouting when he pulls away. She’s naked underneath, having nothing else to wear. If he slips his hand through the suit jacket to feel her feverish skin like he wants to, she would absolutely be on board.

Her clothes were completely disintegrated into ash by Nathaniel, the pile of ash now sitting in a trash bin-- and while she doesn’t mind being naked in front of other people, she doesn’t want to ruin anyone’s night and get fined by the cops. And, well, she’s not  _ naked.  _ Technically,  _ technically,  _ she’s wearing underwear-- but that’s too modest of a word for it. She’s decorated with about three strings on her body, and two of them are saturated with her come.

She’s lucky that the club’s lights were too dim for people to notice as she left, because she’s too horny to put away her horns and tail. It’s _hard_ to do when she’s focused on other things. They don’t come out often enough for her to get used to her chest filling up with true greed. If she doesn’t feed soon, she’ll _cry._ The only thing she’s able to securely put away is the true length of her teeth, because she needs full usage of her mouth.

She twirls a piece of hair between her fingers when visions of Adrien holding desperately to the door handle as she takes care of him fills her head. Her tail is curling hard, the black spade at the end leathery enough to bite and keep herself from moaning out too loud. Adrien is  _ wanting-- _ he’s thick in his pants and the sight fills her mouth with saliva.

“Fine, fine, we’ll leave the rimming for later.” She pouts, disappointed. She swallows around the saliva that pools in her mouth so she can talk easier. “What about a blowjob instead?”

Adrien almost looks  _ shy _ as she continues to teeth at the spade, but his eyes are bright enough that she recognizes the overwhelming desire in them. “Shouldn’t we wait for Luka?”

“Do you want to?” She’s  _ hungry.  _ She wants it  _ now. _

But she’s a  _ good  _ girl. The best girl. 

If Adrien says no, she’s able to wait until they go to her house. 

But Adrien will have to deal with getting drained out first.

Adrien’s a bit of a tough case to crack, in her opinion. He’s not as territorial as she thought he was. If she didn’t know any better, she’d even call him friendly and amiable. He’s more relaxed now that they’re outside and letting cool Parisian air hit their skin, and he even looks  _ younger  _ without that stereotypical pout and frown he always has. Maybe he hates crowds as much as she hates loud noises.

Humor sparks in his eyes as he continues to mull on his answer. “He told me you made him finish in less than ten minutes.”

“You’ll be quicker,” She opens her mouth to let him watch want and need drip off her tongue. Adrien watches with avid interest, green eyes unable to stop tracking the drops of spit that hit the gravel floor with wet plops. “I promise you that you’ll come down my throat faster than Luka can finish cleaning up his station.”

Adrien laughs. “Those are some bold claims. How do  _ you  _ know? Sure, you can read my sexual thoughts, but what does that tell you about my stamina?”

Oh, she  _ loves  _ a reason to show off. She tosses her hair over her shoulder as if to prove it.

“Allow me to demonstrate, won’t you, my little pet?”

He raises his brows for her to continue, humor and challenge swirling in his eyes.

She tongues at her fangs when she pulls his orgasm from the air like a string into her two fingers and pinches hard enough to hurt. Adrien’s eyes widen as he no doubt feels something hot and hurting and deep and  _ wonderful  _ stirring at the base of his spine, and his hands instantly palm at his abs to keep himself from doubling down.

“Oh, my dear little one,” She stands next to him, loving the way his breath puffs and his fangs light up in the night as they grow fuller. His face twists in over stimulation, breath going hot and heavy. “Have you ever experienced edging before, Agreste?”

“No, I’ve never had that happen before.” His breath goes ragged and painful as he borders the edge of orgasming into his expensive pants. Marinette’s impressed that he’s able to speak, even if it’s clipped and more of a growl. There’s nothing most can do when she holds the string tight between her fingers but to plead and beg to be allowed to come.

She’s a curious succubus. “Luka has never edged you?”

“He-- he’s never-- had the patience for it.” His eyes roll as she pinches the string harder in her hands. His fangs are _ long, _ long enough for her to want to lick and smooth them with her tongue. A little pain never hurt anybody, did they?

“Oh? Luka never having enough patience? How sad. It’s so nice to be edged, isn’t it?” Her smile darkens, and uses her empty hand to pet at his jawline. He leans into her touch like a docile and tame animal, trying not to whimper as she traces the lines of his neck. How interesting. “Poor little Adrien is learning the hard way that there’s so much more out there than just coming. Maybe Luka doesn’t have the patience for it, but I assure you, I like playing with my food. And I know you’ll feed me so well, won’t you, my sweet?”

Thoughts and visions of him spurting down her throat as he cries out and shudders and squeezes the back of her neck makes her whine, and she nearly gets down on her knees to give him exactly what he needs. He’s such a  _ good  _ little pet, so ample and so ready for her to drain him dry. She wants to give him exactly the perfect place to finish in, somewhere warm and slick and soft and, well--  _ perfect  _ for him.

“Please, please--” Oh, she  _ likes _ seeing the whites of his eyes as he can’t do anything but gasp. “Marinette,  _ please.” _

Instead of doing any of the visions and wants, she lets go of his orgasm, letting the string dissipate into the air. Adrien crashes back into the side of the pickup truck-- his chest hurting from how close he was. His eyes are  _ frantic. _

“I’m sure that’s proof enough, right? I can make you come right now, if you want me to, but I like hearing you say that you want it when I’m not holding you there against your will.” Her smile curls darker as he sputters, still patting at his button-down and swallowing hard. “I don’t need you in my mouth, my little pet. I don’t even have to  _ touch  _ you. But you want to be in here, don’t you?”

He’s completely astounded. “I--”

“Hmm?” Oh, she wants to touch herself, she wants to so  _ badly, _ but she wants permission from him. She’s aching, hurting, desperate for a finger or two or even a tongue down there. She’s not picky. She’ll take anything.

Adrien grins as he tries to keep his breath level. “How do you  _ do  _ that?”

That takes her by surprise. “Do what?”

“Succubus magic thing. That’s what Nathaniel did to you, right?” He mimics her hand movements, letting his fingers twirl in the air and pinch.

“It’s more than just that, but yeah. I can do other things like talk to you, too, if you’d like. Let me show you?” At his nod, she twirls her hand again and pinches tight on the string. Adrien can’t help himself as he groans and fists the handle of the car door.

_ Why don’t you come for me? Be a good little pet? Let me take care of you. Let me cradle you. _

“Please, oh-- oh  _ please--” _

_ Beg all you want, my sweet, but you have to promise me that I can take care of you. _

“Yes--  _ yes--  _ please, you can take anything you want of me-- I promise.”

“Goodness, Agreste, you’re the cutest demon I’ve ever met.” Adrien almost falls to his knees as she lets go of him again. 

_ “Lord. _ No wonder Luka didn’t survive with you.”

Well, if  _ that  _ doesn’t get her chest to puff out in pride.

“You’re running out of time to say yes, you know. Luka is going to be here any minute now.” She giggles as he shakes on heavy knees. “I promise I won’t get one drop of come on your jacket, I promise you I’ll be the good girl you want me to be. Let me help you. Let me take care of you.”

“I don’t care about the jacket.” His eyes are twinkling green  _ stars. _ How come she never got to meet this jovial side of him until now? “But don’t you worry someone will see?”

She rolls her eyes. Are they forgetting that she’s a succubus? Seriously? She’s thankful that they worry about whether or not she’s okay with public sex, but  _ honestly.  _ “Not  _ this  _ again. Luka said the same thing at the bar.”

“I’m just asking. I don’t want you to do something you don’t want just because you’re hungry.”

She bats her eyes cheekily at him. “Oh, Adrien, I never knew you cared so much about me.”

He leads her to the other side of the truck that’s just a smidge more private, and she lets him with a laugh. Maybe he has some type of fear that someone will see him-- maybe he has some reputation to uphold. He’s certainly posh enough for that. Once his back hits the side of the truck, she opens her mouth again and lets her tongue unravel to lick at her teeth.

He’s not shy about opening his button and fly.

The gravel cracks and crunches under her knees as she eases onto them, and it’s harsh against her skin. Prickles of pain send currents of want back up to her salivating mouth, and she whines petulantly as she helps him slip out of his underwear, basking in his heat as he bounces off her cheek with a soft slap.

His cock curls up naturally, heavy and hot to the touch. She gasps and coos as she tastes the candy coating of precome at his slit that beads and that threatens to become a whole lot more. He’s pulsing full of food for her, and she can’t help herself but sigh at the idea of swallowing everything he has for her. 

He tastes different to her in a way she’s never tasted before-- it reminds her of an expensive desert at an expensive restaurant. It’s fitting, she thinks to herself, as she continues to lick and tease the slit as he hisses. The son of apparently a powerful demon would most likely taste the best, wouldn’t he? He watches her with wide, glittering green eyes as she drags her tongue tight into loops at the base of his cock, starting to milk and squeeze him. 

She swallows his cock whole.

Oh. Oh  _ god. _

Instantly he’s groaning as the heat of her mouth pulls and sucks him to the base of her throat. He gags her in the most  _ delicious  _ way, the natural curl of his cock pushing up against the top of her mouth and the back of her throat. She can’t stop herself from fisting and ruining his pants’s crease as she continues to swallow heavy around him. He’s  _ delicious. _

She’s never tasted the hint of come so prominent before. Her mind  _ spins _ as her head instantly categorizes him by complete habit, memorizing his taste and searing it into the back of her head for eternity. 

Marinette wants everything he has. 

And then, when she’s done wringing him dry, she’ll want  _ more. _

He’s not long enough to scare her and make her pray about the moment that he inevitably spears her open on it, but even as she curls her tongue around him and keeps her teeth away as much as possible, she can tell that his thickness is going to be a problem.

Oh, but she  _ loves _ the burn of getting stretched out. Nothing compares to sinking down on a cock that fries her nerve endings from pain.

She can’t help herself as she whines and forces her jaw to open wider. He’s somehow even  _ thicker  _ at the base, heavy with a promise of choking her out if she angles her head the wrong way, and  _ god _ does she want to find that angle to make herself gag. She  _ wants  _ to let him ruin the mascara on her eyelashes as her eyes start to tear up at the sides-- she  _ wants _ to let him ruin her vocal chords to no return. She can do nothing but squeeze her eyes in ecstasy when his hands twitch and wrap around her horns for support.

He stays completely still otherwise, strong thumbs rubbing against the thin ridges that crack on her horns and spread even thinner upwards like spider webs. Her horns are a delicate place that very rarely get pet or stroked or touched, and she feels a wave of pleasure follow down her neck and travel down to the rest of her body, ending at the tip end of her spade as she curls it around his ankle.

He can’t stop panting, keeping his hips almost too perfectly still. He’s folding in on himself as she does nothing but whine and swallow and bob her head like the good--  _ best-- _ girl she is, crushing her nose into his pubic bone. 

She’s not sure if he’s trying to keep still on instinct-- knowing that if he fucks her throat too fast or too hard she’ll break-- or if he’s doing it because he was raised not to try to choke out ladies because it’s the polite thing to do, but she doesn’t like it. She  _ wants _ to be used for her mouth. She  _ wants _ him to piston into her mouth.

He hears her thoughts like he always does and attempts to laugh, but it comes out as a wheeze. “You-- you want me to u-use you like a  _ toy?” _

She slides him out against her tongue, peering up at him with innocent eyes. “Be a good pet and use me like you need to.”

He nods with a wide grin, and lets her guide him back into her mouth. Her eyes  _ roll _ as he shoves her down to the hilt all at once. Using her horns as handles, he crushes her over and over into him as he works himself into the back of her throat. Oh,  _ yes. _

_ Oh, dear god. _

He fucks her with an intuition of a man who knows that her mouth and throat will soon be shaped to fit him perfectly for the rest of his life. Never again will she be able to forget the way he  _ gags _ her as he snaps his hips into her mouth, how the stars that streak behind her closing eyelids look bright and consuming, how he gasps and shudders from the vacuum of her hollowed cheeks. He’s music to her succubi ears, chasing a rhythm only known to him and her mouth.

She’s sopping wet between her legs again.

But the good news is for this time she doesn’t need to hold back on coming. She can touch herself all she wants now-- there’s absolutely nothing stopping her from reaching down underneath the jacket at her shoulders and finger herself. She’s already lost the competition, and as much as she wants to be upset about her loss, she’s absolutely not losing now.

Her fingers reach for the opening in the jacket, parting the fabric so that she can slip her finger through and tease her slit. Pinpricks of lust and pain make her thighs numb as she lets him take complete ownership of her mouth and tongue, her legs squeezing down into the gravel. Her thong is nothing more than a extra scrap of string at this point, stained with come and heat that makes her thighs sticky and sweaty.

“Don’t-- don’t touch yourself.” God, how can he still  _ talk?  _ “I want you t-to wait until we get to your place so you--  _ Lord-- _ can come in my mouth.”

She whines a complaint. She can’t talk since he’s trying to make his sweet, sweet acquaintance with her voice box at the bottom of her throat, so she resorts to fisting his pants into ugly creases as he snickers. 

She’s a good girl. 

And if he wants her to wait until later, she’s strong enough to try. Maybe not to actually succeed-- she’s so  _ close, just a little touch to her clit and she’ll be seeing real stars-- _ but she deserves to try. She wants Adrien to be happy. And if he’ll be happy with her chasing release using his tongue, well, who is she to try to dissuade him?

She pinches her fingers into the air again, his hips starting to stutter against her mouth. His orgasm is tight and neat in her fingers, the invisible string finally settling correctly between her fingertips. She  _ loves _ this part. 

_ “Marinette,”  _ he gasps, fists on her horns tightening to the point of pleasurable pain.

_ Come down my throat like the good pet you are, won’t you? It’s okay. Let me cradle you. Let it all out. _

She pulls her fingers down, and can’t stop herself from whining and gasping as the sweetest honey coats the back of her throat white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll see you soon! I've also updated the chapter count, in case you didn't see it before :D  
> I want to promise to see you next week, but I'm not sure if the next chapter will be ready by then. But I usually try to update my fics during the weekends! And at night! Because late-night fanfic reading is /my/ favorite thing to do on the weekend!
> 
> Thanks for your lovely comments!!! I get so excited to read what you have to say!! And thank you for the lovely kudos, too!!!
> 
> Lots of Love,  
> FragileIzy <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hee hee hee, hoo hoo hoo  
> It's time for another chapter! Yippee!  
> I was going to publish this yesterday (Friday night) but I'd been working on homework the whole day, and by the time I finished, it was too late in the night for me to consider posting it. Sorry you had to wait an extra day! I hope this makes up for it~
> 
> (Also, if anyone can spot the pun that created this entire AU to begin with, you get unlimited internet cookies. Which one do you think it is? Let me know in the comments!)
> 
> Enjoy! <3

“God  _ damn  _ it.”

Marinette’s pretty small compared to him.

Well, everyone is. It’s not a competition. Luka’s given rides to all kinds of people of varying height before, right there-- right where she sits her pretty ass on in the passenger seat. But she’s so much tinier than usual people, he thinks. He’s not actually that sure her real height since she’s always wearing heels when he sees her, but she’s always small. 

Almost mouse-like, from the way that she fits through the crevices of his heart and soul. He likes it. He’s always looking down on her, it feels like, even with her eyes swirl with threats and heat. It’s like she doesn’t know her own size. She’s nothing more than a little mouse.

She wears a seatbelt. Of  _ course _ she wears a seatbelt. It swallows her whole as she furiously types away at her phone, scowling to herself as something glitches on an app and makes it crash. He tries his best to stop smelling the air as she seems to consume the truck entirely with the smell of sex. How can she do something so easily if she’s so small? How is it that his nose is only filled entirely with her? How does she have that type of power?

_ I wish it would stop doing that! _

“Ordering groceries online is such a hassle.” She throws her phone onto her lap as she pouts, giving up for now. “Can’t a girl get lettuce delivered to her on a saturday night?”

“Phones sense fear,” He’s thankful that she’s plugged in her address onto his phone before they pulled out of the parking lot. She’s been entirely useless the entire trip so far, taking up far too little and far too much space in his truck. He can’t stop sniffing the air, sniffing how she consumes everything. “Try again later when you’re not aggravated at it.”

_ I wish my phone worked. I wish I had enough food in my fridge. I wish I didn’t think of these things at the last minute like a dumbass. _

He expects her to throw the phone entirely out her window from how her face twists into a bigger pout. It’s cute, for someone who’s mouth made him lose all coherent thought about three hours ago. He tries not to shift in his seat as he continues to think about it, fist clenching on the shift knob.

She fiddles with the air vent on her side. “Do you have tattoos?”

He looks into the rearview mirror, to where the handles of her motorcycle cut just perfectly at the bottom half of his view for him to not be able to see Adrien in his own car following behind them. Honestly, Marinette should’ve been in his car instead of his. It’s a far smoother ride-- and Luka doesn’t have enough money to compete with Adrien in that department. 

But she claimed that she wanted to be as close as possible to her motorcycle-- her prized possession. What better way than to be in the car that’s hauling it home?

Something about her question makes him pause in thought. “I’ve never showed you them.”

She purses her lips, pretending like she hasn’t been immediately caught. “Are they personal?”

“No,” He wonders if Adrien’s said something about them. He can’t help but smile. “I just haven’t gotten a reason to take off my shirt in front of you.”

_ I wish Luka had, regardless of reason. _

“I’m curious about them,” He glances over to her, with the way she she leans into her shoulder with a shy smile. She’s the world’s best deception artist, with the way her mouth curls deviantly. He’s halfway to believing her innocent charade, like he can’t read her own mind. “Where did you get them done?”

“The tattoos are my own.” He glances slightly up from her eyes to look at the greying horns on her head.

He knows her horns should be longer. 

He remembers all of the succubi he’s met before, with spiraling horns that spread like massive goat antlers. Usually decorated, and painted with colorful makeup, succubi horns are beautiful sights. Even when he had no need for it, he’d take his time looking at all the succubi that willingly showed their antlers as they passed through the streets of where he used to work. He remembers how many of them would fit clasps and rings on them, decorate them with beaded golden chains.

He can tell that Marinette’s self conscious about her horns, by the way she so desperately wished to put them away when Nathaniel had forced them out of her scalp in the beginning. But, surprisingly, the length suits her this way. 

They’re abnormally small by normal succubi standards, barely as long as his open hand from palm to tip end of finger. There’s a hint of a curl to them at the end, as if they used to spiral towards the back of her head when they were long enough. They frame her face and almost look like black mouse ears if he looks at her in a certain position. He wonders if they hurt now, with all that spider web of cracks. He wonders if she’s in pain with them out.

Luka blinks as Marinette resettles in her seat trying to sit as close to him as possible, letting her tail and spade hang free. “You were _ born _ with them?”

“The correct term is ‘ _ brought’,  _ but yes.” He looks in the rearview mirror again. Adrien is most likely giving him the finger, flashing his lights as his truck goes just barely past the speed limit, but Luka’s thankful that he can’t see him at all with how smudged the mirror is. He’s got a habit of putting his fingertips on it whenever he adjusts the thing-- everytime the engine on his truck turns off the mirror sags. 

‘Truck’s haunted’, Nino usually says when they check under the hood for any casualties, hunting for clues as to why his truck is somehow notoriously the most reliable piece of metal he’s ever owned. It’s the misplaced timing belt he lost about twenty years ago, maybe, that makes his truck sputter and leak-- but somehow, regardless of reason, the truck never explodes on him. 

He likes tempting fate. 

Life’s more fun that way. 

But he’s never learned anything about cars since he’s been around, so he’s not really sure if it’s the belt or anything else. Maybe he just got lucky.

“They’ve been on you since you were ‘brought’?” She giggles as she says it correctly. “We call it being ‘held’.”

“You succubi with your weird Cradle terms.” He chuckles with her, grateful that as long as they keep up conversation, he doesn’t have to think of her smell. The air conditioning is on full blast as it is. “And, yeah. They’ve always been on me.”

“Why snakes?”

He laughs. “It’s always been my thing. Why are you so curious all of a sudden, little mouse?”

“Little mouse?” Her entire body relaxes at the pet name, sinking into the seat. Her tail curls lethargically on her knee, tapping against her skin like she’s lazily picking up on morse code. “Awh, I like that. That’s very cute.”

_ I wish Luka would call me by that pet name for the rest of my life. _

“We don’t talk often enough for you to pick up on it, but that’s always been your nickname from me.”

She’s curious. “Is that the truth?”

“Yes.” He can’t stop chuckling.

“I want to know more about you two. Adrien’s the brooding little prince, sitting high on his metaphorical throne. But you?” Her normal blue eyes glitter with energy, a little more awake now that she’s had something more to eat for the night. “You’re here completely by yourself. I’ve never gotten to ask about you before.”

The steering wheel is loose in his hands as he fists it. He makes sure to keep one hand on it on all times, making sure that the truck doesn’t ever accidentally veer too far off to the left or right. Adrien’s offered to pay for whatever needs to be fixed in his truck so it doesn’t keep acting like it’s falling apart from the wheels and up-- but something that feels like pride makes Luka not let him bother. He’s not necessarily a prideful demon, and it’s not often that he feels it. It makes him feel wonky. Two centimeters to the left of comfortable.

He reaches over with his other hand to pet at her cheekbone. His thumb is as long as her entire cheek from how small she is, and it catches him off guard. “What exactly do you want to know about me?”

“Everything, if I can.” It dawns on him that aside from everything that’s happened tonight, Marinette doesn’t actually  _ know _ him. She knows him in the way that a coworker does, and the truth makes him feel a bit weak to the stomach. Two years of having her sit in front of him at the bar and he’s almost sure that she’s never mentioned a last name. But even then-- he knows a lot more about  _ her _ than she knows about  _ him. _ “I’m learning everything I can about the both of you, I’m so glad you two are actually talking to me finally.”

“You want me to tell you the basics? Or just continue asking me questions?”

“I have a couple. Stick with me here.”

He chuckles. “Alright. Go on.”

“What was her name?”

Luka blinks slow. “I don’t understand.”

“The human on you.” Marinette scratches at her phone case on her lap. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. But I can still smell her on you. It’s stale, which makes sense, after thousands of years.”

Ah. That. “Can you actually smell her?”

“She’s the only one I can smell on you other than Adrien.” She keeps her voice soft. He can barely hear her over the vents, but he knows what’s she’s asking. “What was her name?”

He lets the question simmer in his mouth for a bit. It’s been a while since anyone’s asked him about her. “Her name was Amphinome.”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

He smiles. “No, I’d like to. I’ve just never had anyone ask about her, in all these years. It’s only fair I tell you about my past since I know about yours.” 

“Who was she?”

“She was a human girl I fell in love with. I left her when she had her child.” It tastes weird in his mouth to refer to her in the past tense, but it’s been too long for it to be considered anywhere near the present. “I thought I was becoming a dad when she first told me she was pregnant. I don’t have a perfect sense of smell like you do, so I couldn’t tell something was wrong. I spent nine months waiting for this baby to show up, wondering how I would be able to keep a human family.”

He remembers being so happy. And scared.

She bites her lip, and nuzzles softly at him with her horn when he reaches up to pet at her scalp. “What happened?”

“She’d gotten pregnant from someone else, not me.”

“The child wasn’t yours?”

“No. I took one look at the child once he was born and I realized immediately that he wasn’t mine.”

Her eyes widen. “How did you know?”

“Demons can’t make human children. They can make half-breeds, sure. But not fully human. The boy was fully human, not a gram of demonkind. So I left the day after, and hid in hell for a long time. I was heartbroken.  _ And _ I have wisely never put my dick in a human ever again.”

Her tail flicks gently. “A wise idea. Humans are very finicky. Or ‘fickle’, as you called them.”

He laughs. He learned his mistake well.

“And what about you? Any children?” Sure, for the thousands of years she’s been alive, Marinette was a mother at some point, right? With all the need for come? 

Hm. 

He winces at himself the more he thinks about it. He hopes he’s not profiling her. He doesn’t know what succubi really want in their life, it must be unfair to just assume that all they want is a family.

Then again, Marinette’s not been proving him wrong at all tonight, with her calls to have a house and a home.

Her smile goes shy. “No. Well, I’ve thought about adoption loads of times but I don’t feel ready to go through the paperwork just yet. And I’ve never gotten to actually have a baby. Birth one, that is. Even though I love kids, I’ve never been able to  _ have _ them.”

“What do you mean?”

She gestures with her hands, trying to make sense of the world between her fingers, before she ultimately just shrugs it off with a sigh. “I don’t think it’s possible for me to create a child. I don’t know how, but even when I’ve tried it doesn’t work. As in,  _ actively _ tried. I don’t even conceive.”

“Is it succubi magic related?”

“Something like that.” Her laughter is genuine nonetheless. “You’d think that I would be the most fertile creature on the planet.”

Luka hums. “Is that offensive to think?”

“I don’t think so.” She shrugs easily. “Either way, I think I just can’t be with a human but I don’t really know. I’ve never heard of a succubus being able to actually have children. The whole point of us is to get  _ humans _ pregnant, I’m pretty sure.”

“I didn’t know that folklore is actually true.”

“I hope someone proves me wrong. I really do. I have my whole life ahead of me to keep trying, so I’m sure I’ll eventually find a way to have children, but until then I am a family of one.” She grins as she lifts a finger. “Are you lactose intolerant?”

He tries not to show surprise. Okay, he wasn’t expecting such a sudden jump. “No.”

“Vegan?”

“No.”

She hums. “Food allergies?”

“You’re keeping me on my toes, here.” He glances at her again, chuckling.

“Sorry.” She smiles shyly, letting the spade tip end of her tail curl and uncurl rhythmically in front of her. She takes his hand off of her side and squeezes her small fingers against his as she holds him between both of her hands. “I’m just making sure that I don’t have anything in my fridge that could set off a demonic allergic reaction. I’m only good with CPR.”

Oh, Marinette. Always taking care of others. “I’m not allergic to anything.”

“Okay, good. Those were my important questions, really. Everything else is just to know you more.”

Luka changes lanes in order to pass a night bus. “I’ve got one for you. I’m curious about you and your old Cradle, and neither you or Nathaniel explained. What happened?”

Marinette fiddles with her vent again, leaving the top of his hand cold in her lap. “I got kicked out of my own place.”

“I assume as much.”

She struggles to form a sentence, trying to find a good location to start. “There can only be one Cradler at a time in a Cradle, and since I was the first one to be ‘born’, I was also given the Cradler name. ‘Manifested’. ‘Brought’. ‘Held’. Whatever term you want to use.”

“Use what’s more comfortable for you.”

She smiles. “Okay, ‘held’. Cradlers have a lot more energy than regular succubi, since they’re the first ones to be held. Nathaniel wouldn’t have lasted for as long as I have without food, which is why he’s always freaking out whenever he sees me.”

“And it comes with responsibilities for the Cradle?”

“Exactly. Since I was the first one held in the Cradle, I took care of those who would show up for the first time. New-held succubi are so terrified of everything. It’s like watching a fully-grown lion realize that it has teeth, or paws. That’s when I realized that I love taking care of people and help raise them. Everything is new and confusing to new-held succubi, but they have the core functionality. Find a Cradle. Stay with people who can take care of you. Leave, if you don’t want to stay, but it’s rare see and hear about lone succubi.”

_ I wish I had a home. _

Just how much of a minority is Marinette, if she doesn’t have a Cradle?

“I’ve met a couple succubi like that before, back in hell.” He switches lanes so that he doesn’t have to deal with the slowest moving sedan in the world. “I think they formed their own Cradle of some kind, because they were always with each other. I used to work for underground groups a lot, the ones that would surface out and do whatever needed to be done before disappearing for a long while. Succubi would always be around.” 

“It’s safer to be in groups. Our Cradle turned into a bordello after a few years, because it was easier so we didn’t have to explain why we all looked so different but all treated each other like family. There was almost fifty of us, back in those days.”

“Do you remember them still?”

“Each and every face.” She sounds wistful. “I helped them myself, each and every one. Ever since they would be held for the first time. They’d come to me if they had trouble or needed help and I made sure to do everything I could to make them feel better. But no matter how much I tried to keep up with all of them, there was a succubus in my Cradle named Lila that was never happy with the things I did in order to keep the Cradle safe. Complaining that I wasn’t feeding them enough, complaining that I was hoarding wealth and lying to the others about things that I physically couldn’t control.”

“She kicked you out?”

“She did, eventually, when she got more than half of the Cradle to agree with her. I barely had time to grab my things before I was tossed into the street. I don’t know what’s happened to them afterwards, but I know that Nathaniel keeps trying to bring me back every hundred or so years. He’s the only one that really misses me.”

How many years has Marinette been aching for a place to need her? It makes him dizzy at the bad taste left in his mouth. His hand tightens against the steering wheel, his other forceful in the way it holds Marinette’s hand. “What they’ve done to you is horrible.”

She nods. “Absolutely terrible. I used to cry about it almost every day. But it’s okay, I have the night club as my new Cradle now. I like it there.”

“I’m sorry for keeping you at arm’s length.” Luka takes his time when looking in the mirror again. Adrien’s car is still a blur in the smudges. “I didn’t want to be a one night stand for you, Marinette. I thought that’s what you wanted from me, so I didn’t pursue a relationship with you. I didn’t understand what your wishes were until tonight. And I must’ve hurt you a lot by not listening.”

_ I wish Luka would stay with me. I wish Adrien would stay with me. _

He tries not to frown. Ever since she arrived at the bar tonight, she’s been pinging stars into his chest with the same wish over and over again. It’s a new wish, one that he hasn’t heard since she’d gone on a dating spree with random humans she’d pick up at the club. 

The last boyfriend must’ve been the last straw for her. 

The wish is a heavy one that keeps weighing her down and changing her emotions so easily and tanks her thoughts-- it sounds like she’s aching for a type of connection that she doesn’t have, almost to the point that she’s pleading and begging on her knees. 

It’s painful to witness her deepest wishes ping into his chest, knowing that it’s unfair of him to be peeking so closely at her soul. She doesn’t deserve to be read like an open book, even though that’s all he’s able to do off of her. It’s in his nature to hear it. It’s in his nature to respond to it.

“No way, you didn’t know any better. I just showed up out of the blue one day, I can’t fault you for finding it weird. But you know, I never advertised that I only wanted you for a night.” Her eyes cut through his when he glances at her. “Is it the succubus angle that’s not working for you?”

“No. I don’t mind-- I mean, I  _ think _ I don’t mind if you want to fuck other people, I’m not the type to get upset-- although I’m not sure if Adrien’s into it. You’re going to have to forgive him for that one, he’s still trying to get out of his monogamy phase. Orthodox upbringing, and all that.” He wipes at his jaw. He’d rather help her himself instead of having her collect humans to bring home for the night. Is that considered jealousy? Or practicality? “Actually, I’d rather just say up front that I  _ am _ uncomfortable with the idea of you using other people when I’m more than happy to help you out.”

_ I wish Adrien and Luka and I were exclusive. _

He can make that happen.

“Not that,” But she laughs anyway. “But we can talk about that after. I’m talking about me being a succubus in general. My magic, or the way I feed differently from you. The fact that I’m a subset of demonkind, and all that pizazz. Is that what holds you back from me?”

He frowns at the question. “Absolutely not. I don’t mind you being a succubus in the slightest. I’ve never had anything against succubi, or incubi, even when I first met them at work underground.”

“Oh really?”

“Actually,” Luka blinks, “do incubi actually exist? I’ve never actually met one. Everyone refers to themselves as succubi, I’m starting to think they’re a myth.”

Her laughter shows her baby fangs. “Nathaniel’s an incubus, but succubi is the correct term for all of us. Not anyone can incubate sperm or eggs, or what-have-yous, but everyone can definitely suck.”

He pauses. “I refuse to believe that you’re telling the truth.”

“I guess we’ll never know.” Her smile is full of curves. “Either you believe me or you don’t. Who's the person with the most succubus knowledge here?”

They settle into the breezy silence as the air conditioning kicks up again, and Luka is suddenly all that more aware that Marinette’s squeezing her thighs together, trying to avoid spreading more of her scent into the truck. He must be projecting much more onto her than he thought.

“I held back from you because I thought you wouldn’t want to be with me. In a relationship.” He feels dumb saying it out loud, now that he knows it’s the complete opposite. “I thought you didn’t want  _ any _ relationship.”

“That isn’t true.”

“I know that now.”

“I don’t want to keep shoving humans into bathrooms or trying to worm my way into their apartments.” Marinette speaks after a pause. “I’m tired of it.”

“You don’t have to keep doing that if you don’t want to,” He speaks without really thinking, his brain’s autopilot feature making his mouth move. “We can be that for you instead.”

She smiles easy, fondness clear cut as day in her eyes, her lips soft and red. “I’d like that way more than you can ever imagine, Luka, and I’m glad you’re being honest to me so I can do the same. Now all I have to just convince Adrien to actually speak the truth to me when he looks at me, instead of hiding behind whatever bullshit of a wall he has. ‘Conservative upbringing’ my ass, he knows exactly what he’s doing when he refuses to give me an answer.”

“Adrien’s a character, alright.” He’s all teeth when he smiles at her.

“You know, there’s something else I want to ask, but I don’t know how to word this. Who is he?”

“He’s Adrien Agreste.” He knows for a fact that she’ll take the bait.

She snorts. It’s a beautiful sound. “Oh, look at you picking up on his habits. He didn’t dislodge anything in my brain when he fucked my throat, I know who he is. But  _ what _ is he? I’ve never tasted come that sweet before. That’s not natural. That’s what we call having a good pedigree, and while I’ve tasted all types of come before, that was the most sweetest I’ve ever had.”

Pedigree, huh? He wonders what he tastes like to her.

“I don’t know about the sweet part, but Adrien’s probably tasting as demonic as a demon can possibly get.” His fist curls again on the shift knob.

She blinks. “I have no idea what that means. Is he some kind of special demon? I’m going to admit, I don’t know much about demons other than the addictive come.”

Addictive come? That’s a new one.

“You’re kidding, right?” He rolls his eyes when she makes a noise of confusion. “Of course he wouldn’t mention it to you. Never would’ve thought he was shy about it, but it makes sense that he wouldn’t want to tell anyone if they don’t ask him.”

Her eyes are wide and shiny as he glances over to her to catch her expression. “Alya said the same thing when I asked her earlier tonight. Who’s his dad? Is he really that famous? And why does that make him rich?”

“Definitely scold him for not telling you, little mouse, but make sure to give me your shoes before you start yelling. You’re going to throw them into his eyes, I know it.”

“I’m sure whatever it is, it’s not that bad.” She rolls her eyes, pure disbelief radiating off of her.

“He’s the prince of the underworld.” 

She blinks. “What?”

“His dad is literally and figuratively the devil.” He can’t stop himself from laughing as she pauses.

_ I wish I had known that before I put his dick in my mouth. _

“Oh my god,  _ what?”  _ She squeaks hard. It reminds him so clearly of a mouse that he doubles down on laughter. “The-- the one and only?  _ Devil?” _

“The devil himself, yes.” His body shivers as he thinks about it for longer than a second, but he can’t stop himself from laughing.

Her mouth is a perfect o-shape, red lips parted to reveal her baby fangs. “I thought that was fake. Stories that I used to tell new-held succubi, when they’re first learning about the world and they attach themselves at my hip in fear of everything. But there’s no way he’s  _ real,  _ is there? You’re fucking with me.”

“Not yet.” He can’t help himself from smirking.

_ I wish I could hit him for making a pun. _

She squeaks again as she lets the conversation settle. “I did something sacrilegious, didn’t I? I could get killed.”

“Adrien was fine with you sucking him off.”

“Yes, but, oh my god-- wait, should I stop saying ‘oh my god’ now that I’ve sucked off the-- whatever.” She shifts in her seat, leaning back into the backrest with a defeated sigh. “This is sacrilegious. I’m going to get  _ killed. _ I haven’t even gotten fucked in the last five days and I’m going to get shot by lightning. Or choked to death. No, that sounds too hot, it wouldn’t be bad.”

_ I wish I could get choked out by some strong hands. _

He can’t stop himself from snorting. “You won’t get killed. His dad doesn’t even know what he’s doing up here, aside from just learning more about humans on a closer scale. It’s a miracle, somehow, that Adrien was completely able to escape the family for a while. Besides, you weren’t the one who fucked him for a whole week.”

“Not  _ yet.  _ Adrien is offering him to me for-- until-- Saturday shows back up again,” She all but hits herself on the face with an open palm. “I told him that he wouldn’t last. I told the-- stop laughing, stop  _ laughing-- _ son of the devil that he wouldn’t  _ last,  _ Luka.”

She reaches over to bat at him, and he blocks without ever taking his eyes off the road. She’s smarter than that, surely. Her hands are too small for anything. “He’s not the only one offering to keep you company for a week.”

It’ll probably kill him if he stays longer than a couple of hours next to her sweet scent. It’s already making his mind numb from how pretty the smell of her come is, her thighs sticky and smelling like stars. He understands now why she’s always salivating with that pretty tongue of her’s when the scent of sex hits the air, because he wants to do the exact same for her using his own mouth. 

But still, he’s almost positive that he’ll be fine for a week, if Marinette gives in to her wishes and wants and  _ uses them. _ He’ll be fine. He’s older than Adrien by a good three thousand or so years, and he didn’t survive on that by cowering behind rocks.

Sure, hell’s golden child is stronger, and ultimately can handle more than him. There’s nothing to be said about that, and Luka knows it isn’t Adrien’s fault that he was born with so much energy. But Luka himself has accumulated a lot over the years, and is a well-respected demon because of it. It’s hard to find demons with the same amount of energy as him. He’s only surpassed by the actual elites.

“Of course I know that. It’s you  _ both _ or  _ neither.” _ It pains him that she’s so honest. It disarms him every time, and it makes the laughter in his stomach turn into rocks. “I want you both in my bed, and I’m not going to settle for half of that agreement.”

“You’ll have me for as long as you want. You’ll have the _ both _ of us for as long as you want.” He almost curses out loud from how heartfelt that is.

Her eyes  _ blaze _ with energy. “Oh really? As long as I want? Is that a challenge? Because I want you two to be in my bed for the rest of my life.”

_ I wish Luka would stay with me forever. I wish Adrien would stay with me forever. _

He plays off his rock-stomach situation with a light laugh. “Rest of your life, huh?”

“Oh, picturing it makes me want to cry. The two most beautiful men I’ve ever seen in my life in my bed or on my couch?” She hums to herself, breaking off topic. “Holy shit. I totally forgot to put away my laundry. I hope we don’t actually need the couch.”

“You do laundry? Can’t you just do a cleaning spell on your clothes?” He knows the basics of succubi to not make himself like a total idiot, but definitely not enough. All the succubi he’d met in his life were Cradleless, at least, as far as he’s aware. He’s heard of a Cradle before in passing, but up until tonight he’s had no idea it was so integral to their entire beings. Now he’s not really sure what to make of succubi as a whole.

“I like keeping the smell of come sticking to everything. Washing my clothes like a human keeps the smell still intact.”

Something stirs at the base of his spine. “You are one horny girl, little mouse.”

“Oh yes, say more nice things to me, won’t you?” She giggles. Her phone pings with a notification. She starts typing away at her screen, the side of her face that is closest to him shrouded by the inkspill of her hair. “Oh. The orders actually went through, great! I hope I don’t get delivered four of everything on accident, but, the good news is is that they’re probably going to send the cute girl to deliver it all to my place.”

“You know her by name yet?”

“Not yet. But,  _ Luka,  _ her muscles are to  _ die _ for-- full-nelson material, you know?” There’s the unavoidable sigh that comes from her as she thinks about it, her fingers pulling at the choker against her neck. “My apartment building got the fire alarm pulled a couple of months ago, and one of the firefighters that showed up was what I believe to be one of the most beautiful human women I’ve ever seen in my life. I got her to say yes to stay with me for a while and she ended up coming all over my face in the hallway. We hadn’t even made it onto the staircase. I’m a  _ sucker _ for muscles, and even more when they’re pressing my ears in with their thighs.”

There’s a new scent of wetness between her legs as she continues to squeeze down, trying not to let it continue to permeate the air. He’s half thankful that she’s trying to keep it contained, but he’s more upset that he’s busy and can’t lick and taste her skin the way his body is itching to do.

_ I wish I could get used. _

He makes sure to keep it in the back of his head, and tries to keep his mind level as he unavoidably imagines Marinette gasping and whining while in a headlock. “What about the delivery girl. You feed on her yet?”

She continues to tap away at her phone, smiling bright at herself. “Not yet. Hopefully I don’t have to. It usually scares them away after the first or second time, and I  _ like _ not being banned from apps, thank you very much.”

_ I wish I could top myself off. _

The more and more he continues to smell the air, the more that an orgasm builds in him. It’s strange-- they haven’t really  _ done _ anything in the car aside from Marinette’s constant thigh squeezing, and him just sniffing the air and trying his best not to lose complete focus on driving and pull over. But the highway is too narrow for him to pull into a shoulder, and too well lit for him to do anything. His jeans are starting to tighten as he continues to sniff, as if his body knows that the smell isn’t a threat but a  _ promise. _

“Do you want me to crack open a window? I mean, I can give you road head if that’s what you’re really desperate for.” There’s humor in her voice as she puts her phone down. He must’ve sent her way too many visions for her to function. “You look ready to pass out just staying next to me alone, not to mention all the things you’re thinking about doing with me. You are the horniest man alive right now, which is totally hot-- and I would absolutely  _ love _ to help you out-- but it’s probably not good for you.”

_ I wish Luka’s fingers were in me. _

He struggles not to wipe at his eyes in overexertion. It’s difficult to stay away from her. “Are you doing it on purpose?”

She hums in thought. “No. I’m not doing it consciously. I might be going a little stir crazy because I haven’t been fucked or even touched, but that’s all okay, I’ll be fine. But it’s probably not the best for  _ you _ to stay so close to  _ me _ in a closed place if you’re trying to focus on something like driving.”

“You think it’ll get worse?”

“It might. Which is why it was better for me to be in your car than in Adrien’s-- he wouldn’t be able to handle it just after orgasming. My slick makes everyone want more, and I don’t think it’s fair for you to accidentally choke out on it. And anyway, I want you to want me  _ without _ succubi magic, thanks.”

“I  _ do _ want you without the succubi magic.” His phone pings to let him know which exit to take. “The smell is just adding onto it.”

She shifts in her seat, no doubt trying to get comfortable with the heat between her legs while still keeping her hands clear away. She fiddles with the clasp of her choker as proof. 

There’s something of an edge to her smell as he sniffs the air again, like she’s actually extremely desperate to come, and it takes him a second to realize that even though he can smell Adrien all in her mouth, he can’t smell Marinette’s most recent release. “How do you know? What if it’s the magic making you say that?”

Another ping from his phone. He takes a right into a smaller road, apartment buildings cut through with bakeries and electronic stores that are closed for the night. None of the neon lights even flicker as his truck passes by them, looking for any empty space on the side for a place to park. There’s no one on the street as he continues to drive-- not even a forgotten coffee cup on the sidewalk.

“Because I’ve wanted you since the day you showed up at the night club for the first time.” He can’t curse himself out for being so open with her, not with the way she curls her tail against his wrist as she blushes. She’s a beautiful creature, starvation and all. “Did you not come?”

“No.” Her legs shift as she groans. “Adrien told me not to.”

“And you listened?”

“I have self control.” Her laughter is evident in her voice, but her thighs squeeze to the point of shaking. “Besides, Adrien gets to eat since he made it into a contract.”

Always feeding everyone she can, even when it doesn’t benefit her. Luka can’t help himself but let fondness fill his chest. Is that part of why she was such a good Cradler, before she left the Cradle? Or is that just common decency? “I can change it for you. You smell like you’re ready to cry if you don’t get what you don’t want.”

She’s curious. “Amending contracts is a thing? It’s not even  _ your _ contract.”

“I can make it mine too. Especially since I benefit off of it.”

“You’re pulling this out of your ass.” She rolls her eyes with enough exasperation that gets her point across. She points to an open spot on the road, indicating for him to park. “No way. I’m honourable. I can wait twenty more minutes.”

He doesn’t want to mention that this isn’t because of being honourable or propriety, or whatever else Adrien would probably give as a perfect excuse to her behavior. It’s not pity, either. He’s  _ worried _ for her. He knows what succubi look like first hand-- beautiful gold-red skin tones that shine like stardust. Antlers that spiral to the back of their head. Succubi are covered in jewels-- at least, all of the succubi he’s seen in his life.

Nathaniel’s jewelry had been nothing compared to the jewels he’s seen on succubi.

But Marinette is hollow. She’s almost decaying, her beautiful red washed out into almost translucent. The only piece of jewelry she seems attached to is that choker of hers, and the color is almost close enough to the red that Luka remembers on other succubi that he wonders if it’s a sentimental piece. He worries for her. He doesn’t want her to fade away into nothing.

She pulls off her seatbelt the moment he places his truck into park, and reaches over to him with such desperation it feels like whiplash. She pulls on his collar to bring him closer to her, and all but curls her tongue into his mouth with a sigh. Stars ping and curdle in his mind and chest as he tastes the familiar tang of Adrien’s come on her tongue, and he can’t help himself but groan, pulling his hand away from the ignition.

How is she so small yet so all-becoming?

_ I wish I could kiss Luka forever. _

Adrien knocks on his window just as Luka’s hand gets to the waistband of her thong. He’s snickering, not even bothering to hide his laughter. “Help me get the bike out before you get your dick bit off, at least.”

Marinette pulls away with a whine, cheeks flushed. There’s film in her eyes, and she blinks it away after a moment, as if she’s immediately lost herself into the kiss. “Oh, I totally forgot about my bike. Right.”

“Right,” Luka parrots back, sitting back in his seat instead of continuing like he so wants to, also breathing heavy. He should probably wait until his boner dies down in his pants before he moves out of the car. He opens his door to Adrien, who instantly recoils with a confused noise, his teeth getting longer.

“Lord, what-- Marinette--” Adrien’s eyes dilate from the smell, his teeth showing and poking from his lips as he smiles. “Wow. I didn’t think it’d get this bad. Poor princess.”

“Oh, it must be a lot stronger than I realized,” She crawls over the console, knees pointy and digging into the side of Luka’s thigh as she climbs over to him and tries to settle into his seat. She may be small, but not small enough so that they’re comfortable sharing the seat together. He might as well pull her into his lap.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” Luka blinks.

Adrien flushes red, trying to keep his teeth from getting any longer. “It’s-- uh. Well. It smells like you spilled a perfume bottle in there. No toilette scent, a full on au de parfum. The whole thing. The entire bottle.”

It’s only now that Luka realizes that he’s mirroring Adrien’s teeth problem from her smell. Marinette gets close enough to Luka so that her horns barely graze the top of his ceiling, but she’s short enough to make it work. She’s careful to look behind her, wrapping her hands around Luka’s neck for stability. “Sorry. I’d tell you to get this seat pressure cleaned, but I’m not sure whatever poor human that has to do it won’t end up quitting his job from sexual tension. There’s a lot of dampness there.”

Now that he looks correctly, he can see a huge smudge. It’s in the shape of her ass, which makes a perfect heart shape into the fabric of the seat. There’s a bit of a sparkle to it as the smudge tries drying, colored flecks of gold.

Luka pets at her face and at where her scalp turns into horns. “I don’t mind about the seat, this truck’s seen worse.”

“Almost every day, actually.” Adrien isn’t polite about it, flicking off a chipped paint spot off of the backseat door.

Luka chuckles. “But, anyway, are you okay? You’re expelling a lot more than you should, aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah, definitely a lot more-- but don’t worry. I can wait a couple more minutes.” Luka watches as her eyelashes flutter against his palm. Her horns must be pretty sensitive. The edges of her lips curl as she glares at Adrien, pouting at him with narrowed eyes, and Luka tries to ignore the soft slick noises of her thighs as she squeezes them together. “And  _ you, _ Agreste, I have a question.”

Adrien steps closer, looking slightly up to her in the truck. He’s close enough to Luka that he almost wilts in instant pleasure the moment Luka’s hand makes contact with the side of his neck to rub. Adrien enjoys physical touch far more than he will ever admit. “Hit me.”

“Not yet, but we’ll get there.” Marinette laughs off Adrien’s scowl. “Were you ever going to tell me why your come tastes like stars in my mouth?”

Adrien blinks slow at her on purpose, trying to register what she’s said. “I know all of those words separately, Marinette.”

Luka makes sure she’s not reaching behind her for her shoes as she pulls away from her embrace, keeping close eye on her hands that now knead into his thighs as she leans forward. Adrien struggles to keep his eyesight locked onto hers instead of dipping down to the opening of the suit jacket, how it hangs off of her like a sheet. 

She’s too small for anything. 

Her spine arches into a smooth curve, stretching aching muscles on her back. He wants to lick all the curves she has, not to mention feel just how much of an aphrodisiac her come can actually be.

Her tail curls next to her horns, spade pointing towards Adrien deadly like a scorpion. “Your pedigree?”

_ I wish I could get fucked to an inch of my life. _

Luka’s not really sure who’s wish that is out of the three of them. It’s anyone’s guess.

“You’re saying words but not explaining,” Adrien raises a brow, trying not to laugh but failing miserably. His fangs are fully out, and they shine like stars in his mouth as he pets her jawline. “You didn’t get bit when you kissed Luka, did you? You know he actually has venom in his teeth like a real snake, right?”

She makes a frustrated noise. “Oh my god, stop  _ lying, _ I know I’d be dead in like two seconds if that were true. Besides, answer my question before changing the subject.”

He’s soft and gentle with her, even as his mouth curls into something dark and terrifying. “You didn’t ask me anything coherent,  _ Princess.” _

The two of them sometimes do this to each other, and it’s usually when Marinette is fed up and is desperate for more food to eat-- back when Adrien and Luka didn’t know that there was actual danger-of-collapsing in her eyes. When there’s enough sexual tension in the air to the point where Luka swears he can  _ see  _ it, Marinette would back away and look for someone to help her out. 

It’s usually the highlight of Luka’s night to watch the two of them skirt away from each other. They were always so close to having Marinette drag the crown prince into a bathroom stall and having her way with him, but Adrien just refused to ever budge. Luka had kept tally with Nino on who would cave first, betting that it would be Adrien.

But that was all  _ before. _

Still though, Marinette drives Adrien crazy with her jabs when she’s like this. 

Adrien makes it up to her by driving her crazy with his forced politeness and backhanded complements in compensation, fueling himself with the desires to keep bickering with her until her eyes light up in greed. 

Luka has to admit, those moments where he’d see Marinette’s begging face for a split second before she would pull away and drag some human or the other into the bathroom with her was always one of his favorite parts of the night. 

She’s so expressive when she wants to be, and luckily for her, Adrien just loves to bicker with her and get her as tense as possible.

Luka’s been able to divert actual fights between the two of them before by supplying the both of them enough alcohol to make Marinette lose all train of thought, and enough to make Adrien go completely silent. It’s not the first time he’s had to resort to solving their scuffle without alcohol, but it’s always just so much easier.

But again, that was  _ before.  _ Before Adrien’s admitted-- finally-- that he’s interested in Marinette. 

Genuinely. 

Not for a one night stand. 

Sexual tension is much easier to deal with when the other party is willing. And so much easier to deal with now that Marinette’s admitted to being hungry.

_ I wish I could reach him from where I am. _

“Little mouse here is asking why you didn’t tell her about your dad.” Luka grabs her wrist when she threatens to move back. So tiny. She’s so small that it worries him-- her wrist could shatter so cleanly in his hands if he isn’t careful. And yet, he’s not fast enough to grab her tail as it disappears behind her. He hopes that doesn’t mean anything, and he’s certain that her spade can’t actually latch and hold onto things.

“Oh.” Adrien’s eyes are streaks of green, still rubbing his thumb across the edge of her mouth. “You’re upset because I didn’t tell you about my parents?”

She pouts. “You don’t think it was something important?”

“I’m sorry,” Adrien looks like he means it, with the way he keeps his head down low, letting blonde eyelashes coat his eyes. “You’re right. I should’ve said something about my past. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Marinette.”

For as long as Luka’s known him, Adrien has a signature move. He’s not sure where Adrien learned it, whether it was from watching his first human movie on his first TV for the first time, but Adrien has a way of proving himself right. He keeps his voice low. His eyes sharp and glazed with energy that seems to make him crackle with power. He bows, sometimes, too-- keeping his right hand over his heart as he attempts to convince whoever he’s done wrong that he’s being sincere.

And it  _ works. _

He’s done this with Marinette before, when he would push her too far when she’s sexually unsatisfied and streaks of hard light make it to her eyes. She’s accepted his apologies before when he’s done that, shrugging her shoulders and disappearing off onto the dance floor before he’s able to get her another drink from under the counter. Adrien always smirks to himself afterwards, feeling like he’s owned up to the place.

He does it with humans, too. The crown prince knows how to work a crowd well, who would’ve guessed? Normally, it disarms nearly all fights with him. He’s able to worm away from conflict just by batting his eyes. Luka finds it fascinating. 

“Can you forgive me?”

“No.” She deadpans. 

Luka tries not to laugh. “Well, there goes that.”

Adrien’s eyes widen, loosing all sense of stability. “Why not?”

Her face twists into a pout, her thighs squelching from sex. Luka’s amazed at just how capable she is at talking, given that she’s the one  _ emitting _ the smell that’s making him lose thought. “This isn’t some kind of peanut allergy I’m finding out about, you  _ dog, _ this is something that’s kind of a big deal. Much bigger-- stop laughing, Luka! Honestly-- than a peanut. You really thought I wasn’t going to be able to find out through the taste  _ alone?” _

“I didn’t know that was a thing.” Adrien’s eyes are still glittering in humor.

_ I wish I could make Marinette this happy every day. _

It’s a small wish that pings in Luka’s chest, one that nearly takes his breath away, bringing him back to the surface of the fog curling within him. It’s not often that Adrien admits so plainly that he’s interested in something as mundane as that, and it almost feels like an icecube’s been dropped into his shirt from how much it aches and burns. 

“Or: how were you going to explain yourself when I just kept feeding off of you for-- what, six days straight without you passing out?” She licks her fangs at that, dragging the flat of her tongue across the tip end of it. “You’re too young to have that much energy in you for a normal demon. That’s not  _ natural.” _

Adrien visibly stiffens, eyes narrowing. His smile goes dark, teeth poking at the sides, settling his thumb on her bottom lip. “I’m not  _ young.”  _

Luka wants to argue that Marinette is right-- five hundred years is a drop in the bucket compared to how old he is, but knows that it won’t get him anywhere. This will drag on for hours before they know it, and Marinette doesn’t have that type of time left in her.

_ I wish Adrien had told me sooner so I could’ve done a better job at sucking his dick! _

“I’m a little out of the loop, sure, but that’s only because I’ve been stuck in a castle my whole life. You know how difficult it is to do anything without parents breathing down your neck?” Adrien raises a brow.

Marinette’s voice goes flat. “No, I don’t. In case it isn’t apparent to you, I don’t even have a ‘family’ at all other than Nathaniel. Everyone else’s kicked me out.”

Adrien seems to lose a bit of steam. “Well. There’s not much to learn about the world when the only person you can talk to is a tutor that teaches you about the importance of God and how my dad’s obsessed with becoming just like him. Forgive me for wanting to break away from it for a while.”

Marinette sighs into her shoulder. She sounds a little more desperate than usual. “Fine, fine. I get that. But how come everyone knew about it except me, then?”

Adrien looks sheepish, digging his other hand into his pants pocket. “I thought Alya told you. She tells you everything.”

It goes without saying that Luka’s thought the same thing as well.

Marinette’s phone pings behind her, and she glances behind her to check any new notifications. “Alya’s never told me because she respects your privacy. She told me  _ today _ that your dad is famous-- almost  _ two years _ after knowing you. How am I supposed to know what that means? And I only managed to actually find out because you put your dick in my mouth.”

Luka’s feeling better now. Not by much-- Marinette’s smell is still sticking to the roof of his mouth-- but the opened car door is making it a little easier to breathe. He thumbs at the wrist in his hand, wondering if he’d be able to get her out of the car. He doesn’t mind the smell, not at  _ all, _ but she’s streaking excess fluid down her thighs and it’s starting to stain his jeans when their legs make contact. No problem. Definitely not a problem. This couldn’t be any less of a problem for him.

But there  _ is _ a problem when she’s aching and desperate. Her spade is starting to twitch.

“I wasn’t trying to hide it from you. You’ve made so many jokes about me being raised orthodox that I thought you knew.”

“Growing up rich is one thing, growing up religious is another, but it’s a completely whole different thing for you to be the son--” She squeaks as Luka’s hand reaches over to pull her forward. She nearly topples half her weight over Adrien, who catches her with two arms under hers. “Luka! What are you doing?”

Instantly Luka realizes his mistake, as her hips are hanging over his thighs-- and with her tail trying to stabilize herself by pressing up against the ceiling of the car, he’s just gotten even closer to the source of that wonderful smell.

“I’m taking your shoes because I don’t trust you to not puncture a hole into Adrien’s eye,” Luka fiddles with the straps of her heels, trying to ignore how he’s struggling to keep his tongue from getting fuzzy.

“Hey! I need my shoes to walk,” Marinette whines, but doesn’t fight him when he unstraps the shoes from her ankles. She stays quiet as he finishes unstrapping one of her shoes and tosses it into the passenger seat, but gasps a broken little thing when Luka brushes his fingers on her calf. “The ground is  _ cold.” _

“I’m sure you’ll survive, won’t you?” Adrien laughs, but it feels strained to Luka’s ears.

She pouts, still clinging to Adrien’s shoulders. “No clothes, no shoes, and I haven’t even been fucked yet. At least give me my phone and keys?”

Luka needs to get out of the truck. 

And out of these jeans. 

All he wants to do is lick her clean and dry, but his dick that refuses to go down has other ideas. He can’t stop himself from petting up her calves, tracing the slick on her thighs with his fingertips. His first instinct is to consider it the same consistency as lube, with the way that it bridges between his fingers as he inspects his hand, but he knows that it’s stickier and sweeter. He can’t help himself from swirling his fingers on the back of her thighs, finger painting soft skin with her own come.

_ I wish Luka would finger me. _

Something shifts in him as the loudest wish he’s ever heard continues to ping in his chest like a single star in a blackened sky. “Marinette? Are you okay?”

Her spade twitches, and while she’s pretending to not be completely out of it, she’s starting to pant and curl her back in the most appetizing way. “I think I have to admit that I’m starting to get antsy.”

“What do you mean?” Adrien can’t see what he sees from his side, but Adrien no doubt feels the desire pinging into his chest as well from how he looks ready to finger her himself.

She makes a noise. “I’m-- I’m a little too horny.”

“Do you want us to help you?” Luka’s fingertips find the edge of her thong as he cups her ass. She’s so beautiful, and he can’t fault himself when he gives her a swat to watch her bounce. Her jaw clenches hard as she stiffles a whine, painted red nails digging into Adrien’s shirt and muscle.

“It’s okay, I’m okay, I think it’s just the smell in the car.” But she sags anyway into Adrien’s chest, laughter a little giddy. “But I don’t think I’d be able to walk, you two are thinking so  _ loud.  _ I can’t help it, I’m starting to lose it a bit.”

“Would this be considered looping, if you just keep getting hornier from us getting turned on by you?” Adrien pets down her shoulders. Adrien’s not massive by any means in terms of lateral dimension-- he has muscles, yes-- but Marinette is small enough to make anyone look like a giant compared to her. It’s not a bad sight in the slightest. “I’ve never thought that was possible.”

Marinette sighs into his shoulder. Luka’s thankful that Marinette’s horns are dull at the end, or Adrien’s shirt would’ve ripped the moment she decides to to nuzzle into the fabric. She’s docile, almost, for someone who thrives off of sexual tension-- worming her fingers and finding comfort in an embrace with Adrien.

_ I wish Adrien and Luka would take care of me. _

“Will it help if I finger you before we get out, little mouse? I know you’re asking me to.” He  _ likes _ the way she bites her lip and tries not to whimper. Her tail twitches again, trying to keep her stable and not completely collapsing into Luka’s lap. “You look almost pained for having to wait.”

“I can wait, I  _ can-- _ I promise.” That doesn’t stop her from mewling as he teases her slit over the string. There’s no way  _ she’s _ making all of this much fluid, is there? “I’m-- oh my  _ god--” _

“We don’t want you to wait if you can’t,” Adrien pets her lips with his thumb as Luka continues to tease her so gently that he can barely feel her wetness. His fingers are ghosts against her sex.

“But you  _ told _ me to wait--”

“I’m scrapping it.” Adrien cuts her off with a dark smile. The contract dissipates into the air as if it was tangible to begin with. “It’s gone. Snap of the fingers. You don’t have to worry about it at all.”

“Again?” She bites her lip and tries not to wobble. “But I-- I haven’t been able to feed you at all tonight, this makes me feel horrible.”

Luka could cry, if he wasn’t too busy with other things. How is it that Marinette keeps thinking of others before herself? Surely at some point she’s going to crash and burn from taking care of others instead of herself? He wonders if she’s aware that she’s trying to make up for something, trying to fulfill a role she so desperately craves.

“I want you to come in the next two minutes,” Luka finds himself saying before he’s able to think about it too hard. He doesn’t have to feel it in his chest to know that she’s nodding desperately, accepting the contract near instantly, and her tail twitches so hard against the roof that the spade almost makes a thumping noise against the fabric. “Do you think you can do that?”

_ I wish I could come! I wish I could come all over Luka’s fingers! _

“Two minutes is too much,” She bites at her painted nails, turning just enough to look over her shoulder at Luka. She almost looks pained with the way she bats her eyes at him, eyebrows crinkling. “I don’t need that much. It’s going to be over in thirty seconds, I think. I’ve never been this horny.”

“Are you going to do your succubi magic?” Adrien laughs.

“Doesn’t work on me, unfortunately-- only other succubi can get me to--  _ oh--” _ She all but whimpers when Luka’s first two fingers finally slip underneath the string to sink into her. She takes him down to the knuckles so easily it’s  _ criminal. _ “Oh my god, Luka--  _ ah--” _

She curls her back almost instantly, pushing back into his hand, dragging Adrien into a kiss that Luka can hear as she continues to make soft broken noises. He can feel her pulse, too-- and it’s erratic around his fingers as he works her. 

She’s bordering  _ steaming _ from how warm she is, and Luka’s eyes widen on instinct from the sensation. How is it possible to be this wet? To be this warm? 

It’s somehow hotter than her  _ mouth,  _ and he swears on his life that he saw puffs of air when she had unraveled her tongue out to guide him in. 

_ I wish I could come. I wish Luka would hurry. I wish I was coming all over his fingers. _

She’s wet-- far wetter than he imagined her being. It’s one thing for her to stain the passenger seat, but he’d assumed that the fabric had at least soaked up the majority of her wetness. 

He couldn’t be further than  _ wrong. _

Slick oozes down the contour of his hand like an upturned bottle of honey as he curls his fingers down, viscus and slow, and droplets of wetness bridge from his wrist and onto the console. He’d laugh at the soft  _ plop! _ noises of her slick hitting leather if he wasn’t so awed by how alive she is under his fingers.

She’s sticky, warm, numbing his fingers in a balm that makes his dick thicken in his jeans. He doesn’t mind the mess she makes in his truck-- no,  _ definitely _ not, not with the way that she squeezes tight against his fingers to the point of seriously causing irreversible damage to his psyche. He’s doing this to her. The both of them did this to her, true, but she’s been in  _ his truck _ for the entire time, only getting his sex visions in her head before Adrien showed up. And she’s been wet ever since she got in.

There’s absolutely no way he’ll ever be able to unfeel this sensation ever again, curling his fingers to find that perfect little place that continues to make her cry out into Adrien’s mouth.

She’s electric and aching on his fingers, gasping and mewling broken words that get swallowed by her misuse of her tongue. Neither of them have done this to her, that much is redundant to even  _ think-- _ so Luka surprises himself when he recognizes a telltale sign of Marinette’s orgasm-- she’s a  _ lot _ closer to coming than he originally thought. 

She’s completely on the edge of it, with the way her walls threaten to pulse and squeeze and flutter against his fingers every time he drills into her. 

But she’s holding back for some reason. She fucks herself on his fingers as well as she can, her left thigh making perfect little slapping noises into his forearm he has curled around her to reach, but there’s a hesitancy every time she pushes back against him. 

“You’re running out of time, little mouse. Don’t you want to feed us?” His voice is deeper than he realizes.

Her tail thumps against the ceiling, almost as if she’s protesting his words. Even with the slick, it takes a bit of a force for her to let the third finger in and stretch her fully. She stretches at the third finger almost  _ deliciously _ slow, desperate to accommodate him, desperate to make him fit. She moans at the trouble she goes through to let him sink down to the knuckle, gripping onto him like a vice. 

He can’t help himself but lick the skin closest to him, sighing and sucking a patch of skin closest to the waistband string of her thong as she finally seats herself down his hand. He likes the taste of her damp skin, how it’s bright and sweet.

She’s  _ wonderful. _

She’s vocal about what she likes, he’s realizing, and she just so happens to love it when he bites her. She’s off like a firework the moment his sucking introduces the side of his fang, gasping so pretty-like into Adrien’s mouth. She squeezes his fingers that are in her, desperate for more. Luka’s never been one to skimp on giving Marinette what she wants, so he continues to teeth and press his fangs into her skin, nipping everywhere on her ass that he can reach. 

She keeps sliding her hands over Adrien’s shoulders, letting her fingers do all the work as she massages and kisses him. No doubt she’s trying to choke Adrien out with her tongue, because Luka can hear Adrien trying to laugh into their kiss. 

Her tail twitches almost violently against the roof with a hard slap when he introduces his teeth to her tailbone. She breaks free of her kiss, raveling her tongue back into her mouth to look back at him with a squeal.

He looks back at her. “Too sensitive?”

_ I wish he bit me more. _

“Not  _ enough,  _ Luka, give me more of  _ that,” _ She’s panting, and her eyes roll when Adrien grabs for one of her horns to turn her back to looking at him. Looks like  _ someone _ wants her attention, and Marinette giggles back into Adrien’s mouth. “Feeling lonely  _ already, _ little pet?”

“I wasn’t finished.” Adrien’s frown dissipates as she kisses him senseless.

It’s the first time in Luka’s long life that he understands  _ exactly _ why demonkind stay away from succubi-- he understands now. So clearly. So succinctly.  _ This _ is what he was warned about. He remembers being told at his work to stay clear away from this type of demonkind. 

He remembers the gossip he’d hear while loading and unloading deliveries for unnamed bosses, when demons would have nothing to do except talk about all the succubi that would walk by as they worked on the docks.

_ Don’t stay too close to them. They don’t let demons go, once they have them. Demons become slaves to their own desires whenever they’re with succubi. _

He gets it now.

He doesn’t want to stop.

How can he? How can he let go of  _ this? _ He loves it. He loves how animalistic Marinette becomes, chasing her desires on his fingers. How can he ever stop?

His eyes are wide and pants are tight and his jaw nearly hurts from nipping at her too hard and drawing blood-- and he smoothes her over as best as he can with his tongue. She’s still dripping. Dripping harder, it feels like, as he teeths on her tail. She’s an open tap of honey, making everything she touches glisten with gold.

He  _ likes _ biting her. He likes how she’s reactive to it. He likes how addictive it is.

Adrien forces her head back with the hand on her horn, green eyes electric in the dark street. Her breath is visible, puffing out of her in wet vapors. “Twenty seconds left. Don’t you want to be a good girl, Marinette?”

_ I wish I could come. I wish I could come from Luka’s fingers. I wish to be the goodest girl for them. _

Luka’s thankful that Adrien’s keeping track of time. He’s too preoccupied with other things, like pulling his fingers out of her sex with a squelch to swirl his fingertips on her swollen clit as he bites her right on the tailbone area again.

She comes instantly, crying, gripping Adrien’s shirt so tightly that there’s sure to be a tear. She’s gasping and whining, her tail thumping and twitching that it sounds like morse code, feeding him and Adrien the sweetest honey from a contract they’ve ever had. 

* * *

Her feet are cold.

_ Coldddd. _

Luka’s snickering behind a terribly placed neutral smile, helping Adrien take her bike off the truck bed. Adrien’s no better, but that’s hardly a surprise. Adrien’s just  _ like  _ that-- full of sass and propriety and gentleman-that-laughs-diabolically-when-things-go-his-way. 

He’s an asshole. 

She likes him anyway.

She wants to help them with the motorcycle too, and she’d be able to unload her bike  _ herself _ if she isn’t instead searching for her keys in her purse. They’re there, somewhere. She just wonders where the somewhere  _ is. _

Her purse is about the size of a wallet, and the only thing she carries for a keychain is a cute little ladybug charm on an o-ring she bought when she went to Tokyo in the early 2000’s. She doesn’t trust drunk Marinette enough to have all of her keys on her-- just the keys to her motorcycle and her door. It’s not like she drives drunk anyway, but she doesn’t like leaving her keys where she can’t see them. She spent good money on that bike just to have it get stolen from her.

She’d kill anyone on the spot if she caught them trying to steal her bike.

Which makes her all the more confused to not find her keys.

Her shoes are missing, too, in the dark abyss that is the passenger side of the truck. She misses them, toes curling in on themselves on the (gross! icky! unhygienical!) pavement, but she doesn’t miss them enough to open the truck door to go pawing for it. She’ll get it later, maybe, if Luka ever needs his passenger side to be useful again.

She’s not so sure of what he’s going to do with the carseat-- oh god, and the  _ stick shift, _ she’d dripped  _ all over it-- _ but that’s for future Marinette to worry about. And future  _ Luka _ to worry about it, if he’s even capable of worrying. The verb seems to not exist at all for him. He’d probably wipe it clean with a rag and then call it a day. Sticky? No problem for Luka. He’d wear a glove, so long as he didn’t have to bother anyone with his problems with it.

She makes a show of not cringing when she can’t find her key anywhere. She should’ve used that glow in the dark nail polish trick she saw online, and she always berates herself for it whenever she doesn’t do it. She doesn’t have time to watch her house key dry. But it would be so useful to have. She worries about the location of her prized position’s keys with a bit lip, patting the sides of the suit jacket on her in search for a pocket, wincing when there’s nothing available to her.

She searches the side bag of her bike when they get it down with relative ease. The motorcycle is massive, and much taller than her hip. Saddling onto the bike each weekend is a struggle that she’s too much of professional in to comment, but she’s too fond of the motorcycle to switch for something that’s a little smaller. 

She  _ likes _ sports bikes-- she likes the way they look and purr violent between her legs-- and her motorcycle is no different. It’s a streak of red and black on the streets and highway when she drives to the night club.

Each clasp of the side bag is tricky beneath her fingers as she tries to focus on not shoving the two of them into the closest alley and sucking everything out of them like the world’s best vacuum. She’s so desperate for it. 

Luka’s hands are masterful,  _ yes,  _ and now that she’s learned the hard way she wants more. All of it. Everything. 

She deserves it. 

But she can wait until they get inside, even if her tail and sex are aching. She has pride, even though she doesn’t know where that is,  _ either. _

Honestly. She’s just losing everything today.

Nathaniel himself would be ashamed if he found out just how easy it was for Luka to make her come. It’s a good thing she got kicked out of her Cradle-- she would’ve kicked  _ herself _ out in shame at being reduced to orgasming so easily. And she calls herself a Cradler. Ha!

Maybe she’s just too hungry to function.

Luka’s bite throbs on her ass cheek as if to confirm that, and then the bite on her tail pulses as to double confirm.

She sags into the person behind her as she bites her lip, turning up no keys from the pockets of her bike, and tries not to whine at the ginger part of her tail hitting their hipbone. “I don’t want to break into my own house.”

“Your keys are gone?” It’s Adrien behind her-- smooth and tan and comforting. She can’t stop herself from curling her tail around his ankle.

She sighs, but shrugs easy. What she wouldn’t give to just nuzzle into him for the rest of her life. He smells so  _ good.  _ What if she kept him forever? Would that be illegal? “I’m sure it’s a problem for future Marinette. I have fog in my head right now.”

It doesn’t help that Luka hasn’t taken a breather in his visions that he’s pouring into her head. The visions are liquid and hard to grasp, like even Luka himself doesn’t know what he wants. 

It’s hard to pin down many concrete ideas from how watery they are in her head, but she can make out three clear scenes: she sees herself in third person in this visions, her real skin and fangs and eyes showing through to match her showing tail and horns. 

There’s more tail biting in store, according to these visions. 

There’s her trapping Luka’s face between her thighs as she whines and gasps from his tongue and teeth. 

There’s her getting her hands held back into Adrien’s thick fist as he fucks senselessly into her. Luka wants to watch it-- wants to watch her  _ scrabble _ and  _ fist sheets _ and  _ bite _ as she’s drilled into the mattress by Adrien’s hips.

Everything else feels lost to the fog, slipping between her open fingers. But it’s more than enough to get her mouth to water, and to let her squelch as she tries to keep her thighs together.

“Your keys don’t happen to have a ladybug charm on it, would it?” She turns to find Luka kneeling on the floor looking at a collection of two keys.

She’s not so eloquent when she comes, and the moments after, so she tries not to talk too much. It’s kind of hard for her to think when all body wants is  _ more, more, more. _ Her sex is aching and sensitive, wanting nothing more than to gouge out on a face or dick. She’s not picky. She thanks Luka with a smile, letting him drop the keys into her cupped hands, forcing herself to not at all respond with an elegant  _ “ughhghhgh.” _ as a response.

His fingers are long since dried when he wiped it on his jeans, but there’s still the gold dust aspect to his three longest fingers. She tries not to salivate at them, tries not to go through her desire to pop those fingers into her mouth and suck and tease and mouth-- tries to focus on the keys that dangle by the ladybug keychain, and  _ definitely _ tries not to think about how she wants  _ more. _

She walks on the balls of her feet when she’s on the sidewalk, wincing at the sensitivity of her toes. She wasn’t going to actually  _ throw _ her shoes at Adrien, even if he deserves it. Maybe do some very specific gesturing in exasperation with them in her hands, sure, but she now knows better than to throw her shoes at the man who is second in line to the entire demon-kind. She winces at the thought, pulling the door open to the apartment complex after punching in the code at the door a couple of times.

Her fingers are twitching too hard.

She tucks her tail into the suit jacket that hangs off her shoulder, curling it tight into a vice around her waist. The spade is ticklish against her ribs, and the more she tries to stop herself from laughing at the sensation the more it causes her spade to twitch. She’s battling herself from making herself laugh too hard, and she shivers when one of the two demons behind her fixes the collar on the suit jacket for her.

The hallway is long, and littered with various apartment doors to left and right of them. In the center of the ‘reception area’ (word used lightly, and lovingly), and to the right of the crassula plant that sits alone and proudly on the empty security desk, is the winding staircase that creaks on every third stair. She’s gotten used to skipping them, mentally calculating which step she’s on without even looking at this point. She gestures softly to the two to follow, and can’t help but letting her mouth curl into a smile as they make the steps creak.

Luka can’t stop snickering behind his smile as she walks slow and gingerly up the steps of the apartment. God, she feels disgusted walking around with no shoes on. She’s not this type of girl in the slightest. Give her a  _ sandal, _ at least. But she’s glad she’s not walking on the heels-- she doesn’t feel emotionally ready to be any taller than what she actually is at the moment. She’d fall over. And then proceed to ask to just get fucked on whatever floor she ends up on, pulling up her tail to give them better access.

She’s so  _ desperate. _

Adrien’s shiny shoes squeak on the staircase as the two of them walk behind her. She has to stop herself from whirring around and telling him to keep quiet, because the apartments around them can absolutely hear how expensive his shoes are from the squeak  _ alone. _

The walls are thin enough to hear a soft buzzing of radios and tv’s left on as people watch or sleep in front of them. There’s the scent of come  _ everywhere _ for her, staining the fading wallpaper with tart, and dried human come. The smell is delicate to her nose, and she can smell the freshness of it. It’s impossible for her to miss whenever she’s climbing the stairs, but she knows that absolutely anyone who isn’t a succubus can’t sense it in the slightest.

It makes her whine softly at the back of her throat. 

More. 

More more more. More more more  _ more. _

There’s prepped food wafting through the hallways as they pass them, too. It mixes with the scent for her as they climb higher on the stairs, and that brings her thoughts to her ordered groceries. She hopes they get to her apartment soon, having already received a notification that someone was getting ready to deliver. It’s important to keep her fridge stocked. Even more so when two fully grown demons are staying over for longer than a week.

A week. A week of blissful release. Her tail can’t stop twitching in excitement, under the suit jacket. She wants it so badly. But there are things she needs to do first in order to have her apartment ready for it.

She’s not self conscious about her home, regardless of demon royalty about to visit. It’s clean, functional-- filled with things that make her happy and things that she wants to remember about her life. It’s filled with photos and odd knick knacks she likes to collect from all the cities she travels to, looking for a more permanent place to stay. 

It’s also home to her jewels she used to wear back when she was obsessed with her image to the point of having custom pieces made for her horns. 

Back when her horns were long. 

Back when her horns were so pretty.

Back when her horns weren’t chipped and dull like she knows they are now. 

She keeps her favorite ones safe in a storage box at the back of her closet, waiting for the day that she can have her horns back to full health. It’ll take a long time for her to get there, but Marinette’s patient with her body. She has to be. It’s all she has.

But she has to clean the apartment up for a week of fucking. She needs her bed to be perfect. And she needs the groceries before she falls victim to her body’s threats of collapsing knees and salivating mouth for either demon’s dick. She’s wanting so good. And Luka’s watery visions aren’t helping in the slightest.

Adrien isn’t wheezing, he’s not even close to it, but he does sound indignant at being forced to walk up steps more than he wants to. “Do you live on the top floor?”

Yes. She does. But what’s more important is that Adrien doesn’t accidentally wake anyone up. She rolls her eyes as she turns in the stairwell, hushing him with a silent finger to his mouth. His lips smush behind her painted fingernail, soft and plush. She has to stop herself from exhaling too hard. “Hey, keep it down. You want to announce to everyone that there are people awake at three in the morning?”

“It’s a saturday,” He whispers back, face curling in confusion.

She blinks slowly, trying to remember if she has a point. She knows just how wonderful it is to have his tongue in her mouth now, and her lips part on their own accord. She licks at her fang. “People work on sundays.”

“That’s weird.”

_ “I _ work on sundays.” Luka can’t help but side eyeing Adrien with a knowing smile as they continue to climb the stairs.

“Weird.” Marinette can  _ hear _ the way he sniffs at the idea.

“You’re not working tomorrow,” Marinette whispers back to Luka.

“You told Alya already?”

“Yeah, obviously. And have you worked a day in your life, Adrien?” It’s somehow funny to her, and she has to stop herself from giggling into the echoing spiral of a staircase. She goes back to whispering. “Like,  _ ever?” _

“I washed the dishes once at the night club when I wanted Nino to hurry up closing for the night. I never knew the club actually made that many sales on food.” Adrien sounds serious as he thinks about it more clearly, but she’s not about to turn around to confirm it. “But not an actual job, no. Never got paid for it. Maybe I should send an invoice.”

Luka chuckles. “Congrats, Adrien, you managed to get twenty euros for your service.”

“Alya would lose the paperwork immediately.” Marinette physically can’t climb any more stairs since they’ve made it to the last floor, and she keeps her key close to her chest as she eyes the carpet that runs down the long highway wings. She doesn’t like the texture of the carpet on her bare feet. It makes her face twitch.

She takes a right after too many spiraling lefts, and hopes to somebody that is listening up in the sky that Adrien will be able to keep his mouth shut for just a few moments more before she’s able to get her key into the door.

They cross into the hallway, passing a succession of eight differently shaped doors, each leading to varying people’s houses. Once she passes the tenth with her heart nearly leaping out of her throat, and toes curling whenever it touches the floor and makes weird prickly bits go up her spine from the sensation, she makes sure to look at her door knob squarely in the face. Even with thousands of years under her belt, she always manages to forget which way to turn her key.

Bless Adrien, it’s actually  _ Luka _ that ends up opening his mouth, even if he’s whispering. “Did Alya ever set up the desk that we bought, Marinette?”

Marinette winces at the noise of a doorknob back at door eight opening. She is a good girl enough not to hit her head against the door in sexual frustration, keeping her face light and airy instead. She looks over Luka’s shoulder at the noise of the door opening, a practiced smile already on her face, keeping her voice quiet still. “Oh, Tikki!”

She can feel the confusion  _ oozing _ off the both demons at her sides as they turn around to look at the human that Marinette’s facing.

A shy face pokes through the door gap as the woman checks to see if it’s truly Marinette. Her smile opens up beautifully on her face, grateful that it’s her, and she steps out onto the hallway with kind eyes and a warm smile. “Marinette? Did you come home all right?”

“Oh, yes! Definitely did.” Hopefully she won’t look down to look at her lack of shoes. Or weird dress wear. Or two towering demons behind her. Or horns. Oh god, what about the  _ smell?  _ Can humans smell just how horny she is? Marinette can’t help but bite her lip, at least thankful that her tail’s hidden inside the suit jacket. Small little miracles, she’ll take anything at this point. “I’m sorry. Did we wake you or Manon up?”

Tikki is ever sweet. She’s dressed in her pajamas-- a long sleeved shirt with a colorful printed pants with cupcakes and cherries that are so clearly  _ her _ it makes Marinette’s eyes water. Her hair is a lovely shade of red, cropped delightfully short to the nape of the neck after a fun drunk endeavor of trying to give herself bangs that Marinette had tried to talk her out of doing one night, but had acquiesced when Tikki had started chopping anyway. 

She’s an older woman, with a faded ring mark on her left hand and far too much time to spend as a single mother with her child to do nothing else than watch children cartoons with a toddler. Marinette helps her out when she can-- cooking, cleaning, babysitting Manon when it’s clear that Tikki has too much on her plate at work, and because it’s in Marinette’s nature to take good care of the people she’s close with, Marinette doesn’t mind. Besides, she likes children.

Tikki’s a beautiful woman regardless, with soft blue eyes that exude confidence and motherly love. Marinette’s never learned her real name, since she’s sure that ‘Tikki’ isn’t actually it, but it was the name she’d introduced herself with when Marinette had moved into the apartment closeby, and it’s stuck. Besides, Manon isn’t at the age yet to realize that ‘Mom’ or ‘Mommy’ isn’t exactly the right name just yet.

“No, no. Of course not, she’s thankfully been asleep since eight. You know how difficult it is to get her to bed-- but I don’t know, she just fell right asleep tonight. Honestly, I’d love to be in bed too, but you  _ know _ that I don’t feel comfortable sleeping when you go out-- you’re so young, dearest. It doesn’t feel right for me to sleep, worrying if you’re going to come home okay.”

“I’ve told you before that you don’t have to worry, Tikki.” But Marinette’s adoration is genuine on her face as she twirls her keys in her hands. “But thank you for waiting for me. Besides, we aren’t so far off in age, you know.”

That’s not the truth. But. Well.

“Still.” Tikki shakes her head in disagreement, a sweet little smile on her face, picking up one of Marinette’s hands to hold in her own. Marinette’s skin is so sensitive that she has to physically bite back a moan. “You have no one to ask you if you’re alright. And after what happened with you and your boyfriend yesterday, well, you know I have to make sure you’re not getting into trouble.”

Her eyes are scrutinizing as she looks over Marinette’s shoulder, as if she’s asking either Adrien or Luka to prove to her that she’s incorrect-- that they’re no, in fact, the criminals that she’s suggesting them to be.

“Not getting into trouble. I promise.” Marinette smothers a laugh behind her hand.

“Did you come home from a shift?” Ah, right. Her shift.  _ Shift. _ She has to pay the bills somehow, doesn’t she? At least in human terms she does.

“Yes! Here, let me introduce you to my--” Marinette faulters for a word, dropping Tikki’s hand in order to look behind her. She flounders, tossing eight different words in her mouth. Acquaintances? Friends? People-she-knows? Fuck-buddies?

“--Husbands--” Adrien helps.

“--Soul mates--” Luka’s a little better, but not by  _ much. _

“--Coworkers.” Marinette resists the urge to slap her face with a palm because she’s a good girl. These two. What’s with them?  _ “Coworkers. _ They’re-- they-- these two work at the night club with me.”

Tikki barely has time to respond to the mishap before Adrien is picking up her hand to hold it between his own. “Adrien Agreste, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh!” Tikki blushes instantly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, as well. Oh my! Are you also a dancer, Adrien?”

“A dancer?” Adrien’s eyes light up. “Marinette is better at it than I am, but yes. I also dance.”

“Luka Couffaine.” Luka takes her other hand warmly. Marinette is so close to crying laughing that it’s painful.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Luka. Such two handsome men you have here,” Tikki can barely keep up with her mouth.

“We just came back from a shift,” Marinette hopes it’s believable, still debating on whether or not hitting her head against the door would be considered self-inflicted if it’s just instinct. “We’re all very sweaty. Sorry, we look like a mess. Me, especially. You know how much I dance and end up losing my pants.”

Tikki nods along, clearly buying her excuse. “Is that why you have those horns?”

It’s funny to watch Adrien and Luka stand up straighter.

Marinette smiles.

“Halloween is coming up soon, and you know how pervasive American holidays are with getting into European countries. It’s going to be all the rage in a couple of weeks. We’re keeping up the theme.” Marinette bluffs as easy as it is to breathe. And, of course, because she loves getting complimented: “Do you like them?”

“What are you supposed to be?” Tikki frowns a bit.

“Up to interpretation,” Adrien chuckles. “Take your best guess.”

“Demon? A goat creature?”

“A-- a goat creature,” Marinette’s jaw threatens to drop.

Tikki laughs. “No, I’m going to bet a demon. You’re too cute for anything else. Are you going for an old look?”

“Old?” Marinette makes sure to hit Adrien with as many thoughts of throwing shoes at him as possible as his smile twitches into something bigger.

Tikki hums. “Decrepit?”

Marinette can cry. “You-- you think-- decrepit?” 

“Ah, no, I see it. Broken, right?” Tikki gestures with a hand to the spiderweb of fractures. “You’re going for broken?”

Marinette’s eyes widen before she’s able to stop herself. “Actually I’m going for vintage! Vintage demon! Vintage, not old. Black-- goth-- you know how it is, right? It was either that or a succubus but I’ve run out of gold paint to get them looking like they’re supposed to be. But if you think broken-- I mean-- no one will be able to see them that well under the lights of the dance floor, but, you know.”

Tikki nods. “I like them a lot, Marinette. They suit you very well. They look like they’re made for you.”

“Took her a while to get them this way.” Luka smiles.

“She lost a lot of lunch time so she could work on it.” Oh, Adrien looks so  _ proud _ with that one. 

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Anyway, Luka’s the bartender at the club. You should come with me one night like I’ve been asking you to, we could have a fun night out.”

“But Manon?”

Marinette smiles. “I can find you a babysitter, I promise. You deserve a break, Tikki. I don’t like how you’re staying inside more often than going out.”

Tikki’s smile is shy. “Hard to keep up vitality with a toddler, my dear.”

“True. But you deserve to have some fun! We should go out. I’ll drag you out of the apartment myself, if I have to. What do you say?”

“One of these days.” Tikki’s voice is light and sweet. “Anywho, I’ll let you three sleep. I’m glad you’re okay, Marinette. I guess there’s no need for that jar of icecream for you tonight!”

Marinette regrips her key in her hand. “Oh, Tikki, can you do me a favor and buzz in the delivery man for me? I’m not sure if I’ll be in the shower, and I can’t trust these two to pick up the phone and press the right button in time.”

She might be busy frying her vocal chords using Luka’s cock, if she’s lucky. She wouldn’t mind losing her voice entirely to it, fucking up her throat in the best way possible. She’ll be too busy to pick up the phone.

“Of course!” Tikki smiles bright, tucking her hand onto her own door handle.

“Thank you. Have a good night!” Marinette waves at her as Tikki goes back into her apartment. She makes sure to look at Adrien almost immediately, threatening him with two pinched fingers emptily pulling down, pretending to pull an orgasm out of him. 

Oh, she  _ should.  _ She should totally give him one in the hallway. Wouldn’t that be a pretty sight, to see him on his knees?

He delightfully keeps his comment to himself, hiding behind the most boyish smile she’s ever seen on him as she continues to salivate over the idea.

She juts her key into her door, and hopes that she’s picking the right way to turn as she twists to the left. She hears the lock slide open once, and she twists  _ again _ to hear a second lock slide open, thankful that her magic is able to keep the noise inside her apartment from spilling out into the halls and the surrounding walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The good news is: I'm almost done with the last chapter as I'm publishing this!  
> The even better news is: It's going to have lots of sex! YEAH! WOO! I'll be publishing it next week, so make sure to come back and read it!
> 
> Did you find the pun that made this AU possible? I'm sure you can guess!
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos and hits and everything you all have given me so far, I'm so beyond happy!!! You all really make my week and make me want to continue writing!!!!
> 
> Lots of Love,  
> FragileIzy<3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there demons, it's ya boy.  
> I... wrote too much sex. I'm sorry. Am I?
> 
> We have one more chapter left after this one! Because I can't stop myself from writing and I wrote too much smut and I couldn't fit it all into one chapter and I know that it's not necessarily a /bad/ thing, but that does mean that this is the second-to-last chapter :)
> 
> I even have sequels and prequels brewing in my head for this AU... someone help!!!
> 
> Enjoy!!!

“I’ll take your finger off.”

“You wouldn’t  _ dare.  _ You know you’re doing me a favor by letting me keep my fingers.”

“A  _ favor?  _ The favor is making sure you aren’t bitching and whining about a lost finger in my kitchen-- Adrien, are you really trying to size me up while  _ I _ have the knife? No, stop it, stop eating all the grapes--” Marinette’s spade thwacks him on the calf and he laughs, successful in his mission to get a handful. “I need those.”

_ I want Adrien to stop eating all the food as I’m making it! _

He likes pestering her while she’s cutting fruit, he’s come to find out. 

It was a  _ little _ funny to see Marinette shed his suit jacket the moment she pushed the door open and proceeded to shove Adrien into the bathroom to tell him to shower first. Her bathroom is the size of an egg-- a  _ literal _ egg, it feels like-- which is  _ weird,  _ given that she’s using magic to make her apartment bigger on the inside. He’s not completely out of the common perception to think that a five-bedroom apartment in the city of Paris is doable. 

At least her shower is big enough so that he doesn’t hit his head on the showerhead, but he’s not sure how Luka’s holding up since he’s slightly taller. Adrien really did try not to use all the hot water. 

He’s sensible like that.

Hopefully Luka likes the scent of mango soap just as much as Adrien does because there’s nothing else to use. And hopefully Marinette isn’t all that upset that Adrien took the last of her conditioner. He likes having saturated roots. He’s more on the dry side.

She’s given him a robe for him to wear instead of his clothes, shoving a pink towel into the bathroom with him to dry off with, and he can’t stop sniffing the clothes. It smells ancient. It isn’t a  _ bad _ smell, it isn’t dusty or dirty. But the fabric doesn’t feel modern on his skin. It reminds Adrien of the fabrics his clothes used to be made out of when he lived in hell, back when he was younger and his mom would dress him up in whatever clothes she wanted.

The robe is definitely not her’s-- it fits him almost  _ too _ well, and he didn’t see her put any alteration spells on it, but he’s at a loss as to who’s it could be. Maybe a lover from time’s past, who had left it in her closet years ago and she didn’t have the heart to throw away? Was it someone from her Cradle that she wanted to take with her as she got kicked out?

He likes the feeling of it on his skin. 

It’s silk of some kind, in her signature red color, with a waist sash that he’s tied on way too tight on him. No pockets, sadly-- he feels as if he should be carrying a wine glass and swirling it mysteriously. He settles on leaning onto the counter to get out of her way as he bites down on another grape. With all the fruit in his mouth and hair and body wash, Adrien’s starting to smell like a smoothie.

At least her kitchen is bigger than the “bathroom”. It’s not a kitchenette, thank the lord. Adrien would’ve gotten her a new apartment immediately if she’d shown the place to be smaller than his fist.

The architecture in the apartment isn’t new by any means-- and the kitchen is more of a  _ nook _ that’s separated from the rest of the living room by a wall, but he likes it. It makes the kitchen smaller, sure, and he’s worried that if the three of them stay in the kitchen for too long it’s going to get claustrophobic way too fast, but he  _ likes _ it. It’s a fully functioning kitchen. And there’s so much to look at. 

Marinette has spared no expense on making sure that everything she owns is a decorative item, lining every square inch of available space with knick knacks and jewels. She hoards so much jewelry, displaying them on hooks and collaging the pieces in between photos and decorative pottery mounted onto the walls, that Adrien wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that an actual percentage of gold in the world is actually stockpiled between the front door and living room of her apartment.

There’s no pattern to it as far as he can tell. He could spend days perusing this museum of Marinette’s life-- inspect the dried flowers immortalized between a glass frame, read the handwritten letters she has sprinkled throughout the walls and see what about it makes it so important to her, see what languages they’re written in-- and even touch the worn painted brass of a very interesting looking cat bust that’s close to the couch that his eyes had immediately been drawn to when she opened the door.

She’s bustling with history, with stories to tell and experiences to share that Adrien can’t help but feel a little sad, knowing that she’s so hungry and could’ve wasted away. Marinette was never going to tell them about how she’s starving for tonight if it hadn’t been for Nathaniel, and he wonders if she  _ ever _ would’ve told them.

But, either way, Marinette commandeers her kitchen like she’s totally glossing over how plain cute she looks in her kitchen prepping food. Especially since she’s completely unaffected with how, dare he think it,  _ hot _ she is as she paces around in her kitchen barefoot and barely clothed, going through the many plastic bags of groceries that the poor delivery man carried up the stairs. 

She’d almost given the man a heart attack when she opened the door and realized that she wasn’t wearing appropriate clothes. But that was too far away in Adrien’s brain to comment, too stupified to do anything but follow Marinette’s tail back up into her tail bone with his eyes as she thanked the deliverer with a generous ogling of her tits as she bent down to pick the plastic bags up into her arms. 

She’s littered with lovebites on her ankles. That wasn’t there before she shoved him into the bathroom, and he suspects Luka might be the reason why she looks like she’s trying to make hickeys a new fashion statement. Her wrist, too-- bites and hickeys all over them. No wonder Marinette is barely done with the food.

He  _ likes _ the spade, he’s realized, and how it drags against the floor when she doesn’t keep it slightly curled upwards. It makes a soft dragging noise every time she moves on the kitchen tile and twitches whenever she’s concentrated on something.

Adrien steals another grape.

No, Adrien can’t even consider the underwear she’s wearing actual clothes. He’d forgotten just how tight the black band on her chest is until she’d thrown his suit jacket across the back of a humble-looking dining chair. And he’d  _ definitely _ forgotten just how little fabric there is on the thong, nearly opaque, completely drenched through. Her outfit is a disservice to wardrobes everywhere. Fuck, it’s not even an  _ outfit, _ is it?

Marinette is completely naked.

But he likes watching her work, regardless of what she’s wearing. Sure, it helps. It’s not a bad view in the slightest. 

He  _ likes _ her ass. It makes him hard just looking at her.

He’s  _ especially _ appreciative of the teeth mark Luka’s left on her ass, just below the waistband. There are teeth marks all over her tail, too-- perfect and lovely and they look like they ache. Luka’s quite the biter when he wants to be-- Adrien knows it too well, having spent a whole week on the receiving-end of bite after bite-- and all Adrien wants to do is smooth his lips over the bruises and kiss it better for her.

And maybe give her a few more.

A lot more.

He wants to make the bruises last forever.

He’s never gotten to see Marinette in a setting that isn’t cleaning out cups and glasses with her tongue, or watching her spin and dance on the dance floor-- and he’s enraptured by the sight of her in the kitchen more than anything else. 

Being able to see her in actual real lights, not flickering mood lights that make her skin turn green or blue or whatever shade that matches the song Nino’s playing-- it’s almost a blessing in and of itself. She has freckles all over her skin, dotting heavy on her shoulders and cheeks. 

She’s  _ beautiful. _

She groans when he plucks a cherry out of the plastic case. “Not the cherries, too!”

“Face it, Princess, there’s nothing you can do to stop me from eating fruit.”

“If I’d known you liked fruit this much, I would’ve ordered more.” She mumbles under her breath. 

“More? You have six cartons of strawberries.” He makes sure to count them, because if he doesn’t get the number right Marinette will sure to bully him for it. “Just how much fruit do you think we need?”

There’s groceries everywhere.  _ Everywhere. _ Adrien’s convinced that Marinette is a hoarder. There’s an infinite amount of bread, it feels like-- all on top of her stove that she’s separated out to store once she’s done cutting up Paris’s entire stock of pears and bananas and strawberries. There’s stacks of water bottles, too, against the counter top. Each are  _ two liters, _ and that’s maybe enough water to last for a normal human lifetime in her kitchen. Maybe.

“Do you know how long a week is?” She laughs. “I’m not going to have enough time to actually make food. I’ll be too preoccupied. Try to fry an egg while getting rimmed, I dare you.”

“Oh I could scramble your eggs for you anytime you like, Princess.” Okay, so, maybe he  _ does _ deserve the slap of her tail this time, but he  _ doesn’t _ deserve to choke on the cherry pit as he swallows down a bark of laughter. His voice comes out fried and damaged as he chokes. “Oh come on, that was  _ perfect.” _

She groans.  _ “Regardless. _ You two will be out of commission to do  _ anything,  _ let alone sear a steak. I’m making sure that your royal ass has food to eat when I start stripping you out of your reserves.”

She sounds too confident in herself for Adrien’s liking. He’s taking it as a challenge. It’s just in his nature to try to prove everyone wrong about himself.

“You’re so sure I will.” He takes the pear slice she’s trying to snack on into his own mouth just before she’s able to put all of it between her lips, liking the way her mouth pouts. Her lips are sweet against his as he kisses her, distracting her for another grape. He can’t stop himself from groaning as her tongue makes its way into his mouth-- so  _ sweet _ and  _ fresh, _ completely different from how it felt to kiss her in the truck. She tastes fruity, but he’s unable to differentiate between all of the fruits when he’s too busy dragging his thumb over her collarbones.

She squeaks into his mouth as he picks her up by the thighs to place on the leftover space on the counter, giving her a much-needed breather for height. Adrien has to angle his head up to continue kissing her, which is fine-- it’s better for his back, probably. He hates looking down at her all the time. 

Her baby fangs are sharp as he touches them against his tongue, and they remind him of the knife in her hands: small, tiny,  _ definitely _ can sink into his skin if he lets her. 

He just has to not let her.

He shivers, pulling away and popping the grape into her mouth. It’s  _ illegal _ how her lips are so soft and expressive, and he’s hungry for more as she mouths on his finger, swallowing against the sweetness in her mouth. “Has that idea changed at all now that you know who exactly will be in bed?”

_ I want Adrien to fuck me just like Luka imagined. _

He’s more than willing.

“Not at all.” She deadpans, rolling her eyes when he pulls his finger away. She doesn’t complain when he feeds her a cherry using his mouth-- in fact, she  _ sighs,  _ and Adrien can’t help himself as his hands slide up her sticky thighs, relishing in the sweet taste that explodes on his tongue. She’s glistening, just like the barstool at the club, the gold dust between her legs making his mouth water to the point of no return. Her tail curls against his elbow as she laughs and breaks the kiss to whisper against his mouth, “In the end, it doesn’t matter how strong you two are. Especially  _ you. _ You’ll bend.”

He blinks up at her as she kisses the sides of his mouth so tenderly and lovingly it makes him shiver. “But you’re so sure. How do you  _ know?” _

“I once almost made an Emperor go blind.” Her smile shows her small little fangs that he adores. She tongues at them when he can’t stop staring at her mouth, her thighs threatening to squeeze him on the waist. “I was young and didn’t know the limits of my magic that well. But that was more than three thousand years ago, my sweet. I know a lot more about what I’m capable of nowadays-- and I promise I have ways to get you to pass out if you’re willing.”

Something of a shiver passes through him as he thinks about it more. What tricks does she have up her metaphorical sleeves that’ll make him physically give in? True, it’s different for a human. 

It’d be an entirely different story if he  _ was _ human-- as if he was this Emperor-- he’d take her words completely at face value. He’d kneel. Bend. He’d give in entirely. Give her the world, if it meant to keep her attached to him and treat him for the rest of their lives like she had in the parking lot.

Lord, even as a demon-- even him, one of the  _ strongest _ demons out there, he’s debating on it. Would it be so bad if he falls for her the way he wants to? He can’t stop himself from thumbing at her choker as he thinks it over, liking the satin strip against her pale skin. She sighs a pretty noise when he curls a finger and puts pressure on her throat by pulling at the choker with just a little force. Oh.  _ Oh. _ Look at that.

Would it be so bad to give Marinette the world?

He knows that Marinette’s good at what she does-- boy  _ does _ he, he still can’t feel his toes from how hard she’d sucked-- but something about her tone of voice makes him want to challenge her regardless. He doesn’t  _ like _ people deciding his actions. If he can get away from it, he’ll do his best, even if he actually wants to do it.

Besides, he wants to impress Marinette. If he can be the first one to manage not to bend to her, it’ll be just one more thing she gets pouty about. And he  _ loves _ that pout. Her tail twitches against his side as he dips his head slightly to kiss her shoulders. “Well, yeah. Obviously I’m willing, Princess, I’m here to see you do your worst. Best. What have you. If anything, Luka and I are the only ones that would be able to handle it, right?”

“I can’t really think of anyone else who would, in terms of demons.” She leans slightly against the upper cabinet, letting him fit through her spread legs to continue kissing her clavicle. She fists his hair so nicely, pushing his bangs out of his face, her thighs shaking. “A-any succubus would be fine, though.”

_ I want Adrien to fuck me right here on this counter. _

He’s considering it.

He teethes at her skin, and Marinette’s foot kicks slightly into the air on instinct. Interesting. So it’s not just biting at the tail that makes her twitch. Oh, he’ll have fun with  _ that _ one. “How strong are succubi?”

“Stronger than you think.” There’s a curl in her smile when he looks up from tonguing the area that he’s bit her, but her teeth are deceptively hidden behind her plush lips. Not quite ready to show her full teeth, it seems. He just needs to try harder.

“Not physically, though.” He’d snap her bones so easily if he isn’t careful.

“It depends on the person.” She sighs at him biting at her neck, just under the choker, letting her head drop in the other direction. Her horns hit the cabinet with a mewl. “We’re--  _ ah-- _ all different.”

He likes the bite marks on her skin. She looks lovely, her pale skin starting to dot heavy with red and purpling smudges. He wants to keep adding to Luka’s collection of bites. “But all of you have that succubi magic?”

She laughs breathlessly, coming out more like a whine. “It-- uhm-- it comes with the profession.”

He pulls away with a cheeky smile. He likes that her tail twitches and curls tighter on his arm to keep him from leaving. As if he’d ever walk away from her. “What else can you do?”

Her eyes are electric and shiny. He  _ likes _ seeing vitality in her. They’re always competing with each other, sure-- but there’s more of a danger in her eyes now that she’s able to actually bite back and make it hurt, now that she’s better fed. “Well, aside from being able to make you come whenever I want, making  _ me _ come and having a taste is a sure-fire way to make you want to keep fucking me.”

He’s heard this one before, back when he and Nino used to sneak off of castle grounds to go see what the normal demon population was up to. He remembers hearing whispers about the succubi kind, but never understood what they meant. “Why?”

“The whole point of me is to consume orgasms. Literally.” The way she says it so plainly makes his mouth twitch. “My come makes people want more. So they keep going until they give me everything they have or I stop them.”

Oh.

_ Oh. _

“So if I lick you right now,” He smiles dark.

_ I want Adrien to eat me out on the counter. _

She laughs. “Which isn’t a good idea just yet, given that I’m still making food for you,”

“I won’t want to stop?”

“It’s a little grey, isn’t it?” She bites her lip. “But yeah. Essentially. Which is why I usually just fix all of my problems by not coming in general.” 

He blinks up at her, snapping his attention away from how her thighs continue to squeeze so  _ delectably _ on his waist and abs. “Wait, but what about the people you’d drag to the bathroom to fuck?”

“Just to eat.” She shrugs. “I never came. It sucks, but it’s for the best. I don’t like getting wrapped up in the ethics of it.” 

“And you make fun of  _ me _ for having morals.” His tone is dry, but she laughs anyway. 

“That’s because you’re an asshole about it. Anyway, today’s the first time in a  _ long _ time that I’ve actually come without my own help. The good news is: I can make you stop whenever I want, or if I think you’re just being fully consumed by the spell. But if I  _ don’t  _ stop you, you’ll just keep going until you’ve passed out on your own.” She wraps her arms around his neck. “And I want you lucid, my little pet, even if it’s just for a little while.”

“I don’t mind not being lucid.” It sounds exciting, in any case.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re missing the point. I want you here and wanting  _ me, _ not because magic is making you continue.”

“I  _ am _ here and wanting you. I even showered in your tiny bathroom, because I  _ want _ to be here, and trust me, it wasn’t  _ magic _ that forced me to do it.” He accidentally knocked over her shampoo bottles twice with his elbows and kept his grumping to himself when the bottle landed on his toe, but that's beside the point, now isn’t it? “Speaking of, we should talk about getting you a bigger bathroom if we’re going to keep coming here.”

There’s a brief shine in her eyes at the prospect of more, and she hides it by unwrapping her legs from his body after one squeeze that takes all his breath away, and jumps down from the counter. She goes back to chopping, knife as small as her hand, laughing as he pouts at the empty counter space in front of him. “My bathroom is fine.”

He pouts harder. “I am-- and I mean this literally-- too big for it.”

“Maybe you’re just too tall. Downsize.” She snorts. “Stop feeding your ego and maybe your head will shrink.”

There’s no malice in his voice. “You’re a brat, aren’t you, Princess?”

She grins at him. “As if you’re one to talk-- you’re the most spoiled Prince I’ve ever met. What’s your point?”

Adrien lets the silence settle, taking a grape from the bag. Oh, wow. He  _ is _ actually almost done with the grapes in this bag. Oops. “How do you stop me from wanting more of your come?”

“What happened to ‘not finding me interesting enough to continue talking to’, Adrien?” Her smile is teasing, humor in her eyes. Her relaxed shoulders tell him that she’s not actually upset, but rather inquisitive-- bringing back words that he’s said to her before, when they’d get so aggressive with each other that Luka had to intervene with copious amounts of alcohol.

It was his favorite thing to do for the night when he was done feeding on stupid human contracts. Annoying and pestering the shit out of Marinette until she furrowed her brows and left to go dance, or haul a human back into the inevitable bathroom stall made Adrien feel like he was being productive, much to Luka’s silent but humorous disagreement.

He  _ likes _ seeing Marinette passionate. But he shouldn’t have done it that way.

“Okay, I admit. I  _ was _ being an asshole.” He ducks his head, ashamed. He rubs at the back of his neck. “I should’ve been clearer with you from the beginning that I liked you. You didn’t deserve me to be a piece of shit to you without any context.”

“It would’ve been nice to exist at the club without you acting like a prick. Or like a grumpy cat.” She nods along.

He pouts. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

Recognition sparks in her eyes. “Actually, I don’t know why I never made the correlation. You’re absolutely a cat, aren’t you? God, no wonder you were so hard to understand.”

“Not a cat.”

“Not a dog, either,” Her smile curls. “But I like this a lot better for you.”

His expression goes flat.  _ “Still. _ Still. I’m sorry.”

She accepts his peace-offering grape with a twinkling laugh. “It’s a good thing I never took you seriously, wouldn’t you say, kitty-cat?” 

He makes a noise of disagreement. “Not true. There were a couple of times that I thought you were going to punch me in the face.”

“A few come to mind,” she agrees easily, much to his embarrassment. “But I’m not a violent person by nature. I’d rather deal with my problems in a more pacifist way.”

“So, then, how would you get me to stop wanting more of your come, Miss Pacifist?”

“Want me to demonstrate?” She pricks him on the side with her spade when he nods. It stings a bit, but it’s nothing more than an ant bite. “That’s enough to get you to wake up.”

“Are you sure?” Because it was  _ nothing. _

Her laughter is so pretty, crinkling her blue eyes as she giggles and continues to cut through fruit. “Positive. You’re not the first demon I’ve been with, you know. You’ll wake up.”

He mulls it over. “Until I lick you again.”

“I guess so.” She purses her lips. “But I’ve never had that happen to me before. I mean, why would you want to go  _ back _ to it? I’ve heard it feels claustrophobic to be consumed by lust for me.”

He can’t help but frown. “I want you to feel good, too, you know. I’m not fucking you as a chore. Or a mutual agreement, whatever. Or just to feed you. I’m not interested in this being a one-time thing, Marinette, and it won’t take Luka any effort at all to admit the same thing.”

She raises one of her brows. “I guess as much.”

Adrien can’t help but barrel through. “I  _ like _ you. I know I’ve been an ass to you, but I do. I like you--  _ we _ like you. Luka gets so happy when you show up.”

_ I want Adrien to keep saying that over and over again. _

She pauses cutting. “Hm. Cute confession. Six out of ten, my dear pet.”

He can’t help but narrow his eyes. “What’s missing?”

“If you could stop stealing fruit faster than I can replace them on the plate, maybe I’d be inclined to believe you that  _ you _ like me.” Her laughter is sweet.

“What was his name?” He leans into the counter to watch her slowly lose cutting board space with all of her chopping. 

“Huh? Whose?”

“The Emperor you nearly killed with your pretty tits.” Distracted enough, Adrien manages to get a cherry off of her before she tries to knife him. He’s all teeth as he smiles at her.

“Oh, fine. Eat the fruit, see if I care. Don’t go complaining when there’s nothing to eat when you’re actually hungry. And his name is Xien if I remember correctly, but I know for a fact that he’s an ass guy.” She seems proud of herself as she thwacks him with her spade on his calf, pushing another pear onto her chopping board. 

Xien is not the only one. But then again, Adrien likes everything about her. So.

“Wait.” Adrien stumbles. “Xien? As in, like, one of the original demons? The one who wrote ‘The Five Cases of War’?”

She laughs. “The one and only.”

His eyes widen, voice weak in his mouth as he debates on what to say. “Lord, wait, are-- is-- are we talking about-- the--  _ the  _ Xien? I used to read his books and study them, back when I was growing up. You nearly made one of the most important demons to ever exist go blind from  _ fucking?” _

“Did you think I was talking about a human Emperor?” She’s completely unaware that she’s taking a good swing at the foundational pillars of Adrien’s psyche with just a single admission. At his stunned silence, she turns to look at him with such genuine laughter that it catches him off guard. “Get me another tray, won’t you?”

One of the strongest demons in the world.

Nearly turned blind.

Marinette almost killed the man that had written the book Adrien had been forced to study from for years.

Truly, the world is just too small for all of them.

Adrien looks around him uselessly, head still swirling. There are so many places it could be. “Any direction I should start looking for it?”

“Try the cabinet behind you,” The way she glides the knife through the green skin of the pear makes his feet glued to his spot. She glances at him with humor in her eyes. “Do you need instructions on how to open the cabinet door, your Majesty?”

Adrien can’t help but laugh, peeling away to open the cupboard. “Something tells me you won’t let me live this down.”

“Not a chance!” She guides a pear slice into her mouth along with the tip end of her knife, making lovely crunching noises with her baby fangs. “In fact, I’ll make you pay for not telling me. I’m just trying to figure out how.”

Oh, Lord. How much hope does he have surviving this week if Marinette nearly altered history by complete accident? He hopes he doesn’t show just how concerned he is on his face.

“I  _ am _ sorry, you know.” Adrien finds a white dish that looks big enough to fit all the pears left for her to chop. He makes sure not to make too much noise when he places it on the counter. She makes a noncommittal noise to show that she’s listening to him as she moves fruit across the carton, her tail slapping lightly against the floor as she starts on another pear. “I really thought you knew.” 

She feeds him a slice with a soft smile. Her fingers are soft and sweet in his mouth. “Ah well. Tell me a little more about yourself, since I clearly don’t know much about you.”

It takes him a little bit to stop staring at the swell of her ass. “What do you want to know?”

“Hm, how about if you’re allergic to any food?”

“Trying to poison me?”

“I’d rather not have you passed out because you ate an almond.” Her laughter is easy and genuine. “Let me know if you have health problems  _ before _ I fuck you into a mattress for a week, thanks. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing I almost killed you for the completely wrong reason.”

His current mission is to survive this week in order to tell the tale.

“That’s fair.” He shrugs. He really wishes the robe had pockets. His hands keep sliding on his torso to find one. “No allergies that I know of. What about you?”

_ I want to lick Adrien’s abs. _

Huh. Looks like  _ someone’s _ paying attention to him.

Marinette finally starts cutting through a pineapple that she picks out of one of the plastic bags. It’s huge, bigger than her head with the green crown it’s sprouting, and if Adrien didn’t know just how good she is with a knife he’d say that she was going to have a tough time cutting through the outer shell. “I’m allergic to shellfish.”

His eyes widen as she peels the skin off of the pineapple. “Seriously?”

She nods with a laugh. “I went into a coma once for it. I couldn’t die from it, but it was horrible. I woke up a couple of days later in my Cradle with everyone looking at me completely terrified. None of my Cradle mates understood what had happened, since I’ve never done it before, so they thought I’d just been asleep the entire time. I’ve been avoiding it ever since.”

“Lord, that’s awful.” He takes another cherry. “Thanks for letting me know, I guess. I’m assuming there’s no crab or shrimp in your apartment?”

“Not unless I want to have a long uncomfortable nap.” Her tail perks at the noise of the bathroom door opening. Luka’s in the middle of humming something, his baritone voice soft and pleasant, and Marinette’s tail curls happily at the thought of seeing him. “Get me another tray?”

He raises a brow, but does it anyway. This new tray is heavier, painted with swirly blue paint strokes. He takes extra care not to break it, wondering just how old the plate actually is. “Do you even have space in your fridge for this?”

She pauses to take inventory, and bites at her nail when she realizes her mistake. “I’m sure you can spare some of your clearly ever-important energy to make my fridge bigger on the inside.”

Luka is still humming something under his breath when he shows up into the kitchen barefoot, eliciting a smile from Adrien as they make eye contact. Adrien can’t help himself but lean closer to Luka and give him a couple of grapes stashed away in his palm, and they try to contain their laughter when they take turns eating behind Marinette’s back as she looks away to continue flitting about in the small area of the kitchen.

It’s interesting to see Luka in red. It doesn’t fit Luka-- not in terms of color. It clashes with the blue in his hair-- and clashes especially wrong with the turquoise tips. Luka looks better in his black band shirts, and Adrien’s  _ always _ been the first one to say it. 

Adrien  _ likes _ seeing Luka’s biceps strain to not tear the fabric of the shirts, how his sleeves always look so close to genuinely stretching too far at the seams. Luka looks so good in black that it’s almost annoying, how his shirts always seem too small for him. He loves it. He never stops looking at him whenever they’re out getting food together.

And, well, everyone looks good in black. It’s Adrien’s favorite color for a reason. Luka just takes it to the extreme always.

But Luka fills out the robe well regardless of the color, broad shoulders making a crisp line. His sash isn’t as tight on his waist as Adrien’s is, and it makes him wonder if he should untighten it. They look like they’re ready for a cigar to smoke.

Adrien probably watches too many mafia movies.

He wasn’t allowed a television when he lived back in hell. His dad considers it a poison for his mind, and thinks that it’ll brainwash him into thinking bad things. Ironic.

Luka’s slow to pull his phone off the counter, checking for notifications. He’s methodical in the way he scrolls through his apps, going through some late-night or early-morning housekeeping on his phone. Probably playing that internet-pet app that he’d gotten addicted to a couple of months back and now continues to play on the regular from time to time.

He stays at the edge of the kitchen, staying close to the phone charger as he absent-mindedly pokes his thumbpad on his fang. It’s a habit that Luka has when he’s not paying attention and is mentally checked out of the conversation, and it’s something that drives Adrien crazy whenever he accidentally makes himself bleed. Luka never notices until his tongue makes contact with blood, and by that point, it’s too late but for Adrien to curse him out for being so distracted.

Adrien tries to not stare at Luka too much, trying not to look enraptured with the way Luka’s eyelashes coat his cheekbones when he’s looking down. Luka is too handsome for his liking, sometimes. He’s always had a thing for brunettes. “And why can’t you do it, Princess?” 

Marinette’s tail curls in laughter, too far away to swat him with it. “Because I’m busy, kitty-cat. Help me out here, won’t you?”

“Fine, fine.”

_ I want Marinette on her knees. _

Marinette pauses slicing as she looks behind her, looking at Luka with a slow and steady inhale, humor apparent in her eyes. Adrien wonders what types of visions she just got sent in order for her to stop. “Luka, did you taste anything when you fingered me?”

Luka’s eyes blink up at her so slowly that it looks comical. He looks sated, standing at the edge of the kitchen, trying not to make the tiny space claustrophobic. His smile is slow to blossom on his face, showing twin white fangs that Adrien finds arousing. “I don’t think so.”

“You bit me multiple times all over my tail,” She gestures to it, in case he doesn’t remember. Her tail curls in the air, taking up the entire width of the kitchen so easily, her spade pointing up to the ceiling light. “Do you remember a taste? You might have tasted my come, and you might be under some magic right now.”

_ I want to eat Marinette out. _

He’s incredibly slow to respond. “I’m not sure. You tasted like sweat to me, I think.”

Marinette puts down her knife as she hums to herself, and comes closer.

The kitchen’s not made for three grown adults. Not even one, technically. It’s too small for Adrien’s liking. It’s a  _ little _ less crowded, given Marinette’s height and stature-- she’s so  _ small _ and  _ lithe _ and  _ fragile _ that it makes Adrien always feel self-conscious about the amount of space he takes up whenever she’s close like this. But the kitchen is comically small regardless.

She doesn’t seem to mind it in the slightest.

She might even like the height difference  _ too _ much, now that he thinks about it-- the way she preens to herself, looking up to meet Luka’s eyes.

“What are you feeling right now?” She puts herself between the two of them by wedging her hip in between them first, leaning back into Adrien’s chest as she continues to pout in thought. 

Adrien has the sudden urge to bite her on one of her horns as they bob slightly just below his chin when she moves. Just to see if she’d react. He knows they’re sensitive-- how she’d whined and sighed into his mouth and on his dick when he’d grabbed her by the base of her horns. He wants to keep doing it. He wants to know  _ everything _ that makes her tick.

Regardless, he lets it rest in favor of wrapping his hands around her waist, and he  _ likes _ the way she instantly relaxes against him with a little smile. His hands aren’t big-- he doesn’t  _ think _ he’s too tall or large-- he’s just more in favor of thinking that Marinette is too small. Her skin is soft under his hands, and he can hear it in her chest how she holds back a little noise.

_ I want Adrien to continue petting me. _

Oh.  _ Oh, good. _

She’s pliable putty in his arms as he ducks to kiss her shoulders on reflex to her moan, and she tilts her head to the side when he nips at her bare shoulder, following the line of freckles up her neck.

Luka can’t stop  _ staring. _ His eyes are so focused on what Adrien’s doing that even he’s starting to shiver from how much heat burns through those blue irises.

Maybe Luka isn’t the only one who’s under the magic, but Adrien’s sure that he didn’t get any taste of the stickiness between her thighs-- even though he’s debating on doing it right here and now. How truly bad can it be-- being consumed by lust for this beautiful creature in front of him-- when he already  _ is? _

“I feel like I’m being punished.” Luka looks almost embarrassed as he tucks his hand behind his neck to rub in shame. He watches Adrien continue to pet at Marinette’s waist and ribs with his swirling blue eyes, pinging desires bright and heavy into Adrien’s chest about how he wants to continue watching Marinette shiver under his fingertips. Adrien is drowning in the wants and desires that swirl in him, threatening to pull him under for good. “I-- honestly don’t remember, little mouse.”

_ I want Marinette to come just like this. _

Is that Luka’s desire? Or his?

Adrien chuckles low in his chest. “Maybe we should remind Luka what he did? What do you think, Princess?” 

“Oh,  _ yes,  _ ah--” She’s instantly breathing harder, curling her back in a way to lift her chest up and into his warm palms, giving him enough context as to what she wants. Her hand makes its way to the back of Adrien’s neck as she holds on for support, fisting  _ deliciously _ at his hair, and her tail curls up to wrap around Adrien’s left elbow as Luka absentmindedly puts his phone back onto the counter and stands closer.

She’s trapped between them.

She’s not particularly shy when Adrien pulls down the band from her chest just enough for him to pinch her nipples between his fingers, but her face heats and thighs shake. She’s not innocent-- far,  _ far _ from it-- but there’s something about her that makes him think always that she’s doing something for the first time. She acts as if she’s never been manhandled in front of somebody else, with the way she cries out and whimpers.

Marinette makes another noise as Adrien sucks the skin under her ear, leaving one of his hands from her chest to travel down her abs and down to her butter-soft thighs. His fingers swipe easy against the string that barely covers her, teasing her swollen clit through the fabric, and she gasps. “Ah-- I-- I just want to know, Luka. I’m--  _ oh my god-- _ just wondering if you accidentally tasted me. We talked about how my magic makes people want m-more, right?”

Luka’s brows scrunch together as he tries thinking through fog, long eyelashes coating his eyes as he continues to stare at Adrien’s moving hand plucking and teasing at her pebbled nipple. 

Marinette whimpers so sweet and soft when Adrien moves his hand away from her thong in favor of pressing his knee up against her instead, sliding her hips back closer to him. She twitches  _ hard,  _ standing on her tiptoes to try to escape his thigh that wedges between her legs, smearing glistening come over his robe and exposed skin. 

She slams a hand onto the counter to try to prop herself up and away from his leg, so sensitive--  _ so, so sensitive--  _ but she doesn’t have enough height for it to make a difference.

She’s at his complete mercy.

Luka swallows hard enough to be audible, chest rising and falling hard as he watches Marinette struggles to stay lucid and coherent. “I genuinely don’t remember if I licked you, little mouse, but if what I’m feeling is succubus magic I’m okay with it. Are you sure that I’m the only one under the magic spell?”

_ I want to come again. I want Adrien to make me come. I want Luka to watch me come on Adrien’s fingers. _

“Oh. Would you look at that, Luka, she  _ likes _ it when you watch her. Do you like that? Do you like putting on a show?” Adrien can’t help but chuckle into her ear as her body blushes red. Her thighs squeeze against his leg in response, a sweet little slick noise from her making him groan into her choker. “You just love to be used, don’t you, Marinette? Being treated like a toy is your favorite hobby.”

She sighs so desperately as he stops pinching at her perfect tits in favor of wrapping his hand around her neck. Not squeezing-- no, not  _ yet, _ he wants her to be able to respond-- but just putting enough pressure to make her tail twitch harder against his elbow. She whines at the back of her throat, instantly blushing hard enough that her freckles are impossible to spot. “Are you not going to finger me?”

“Oh, no, I’m not going to touch you any more than I already am.” His laughter is deep in his chest as she sounds shocked. She’s so weightless in his hands that he worries just how much she can take before breaking. “I’ll make you come on my leg like the desperate little Princess you are, instead. Don’t you want to come, Marinette?”

_ I want to come. I want to come so badly. _

Marinette tries to speak normally, trying to nod her head, but her voice cracks so hard as Adrien teethes along her jawline that he’s certain he’s broken her already. “Yes--  _ please, please  _ yes--”

Her thighs twitch to the point where he has to keep a hand on her hip to keep her from falling off of him. “Good girl.”

Her eyes go glassy and soft at the praise, and she’s suddenly  _ docile _ , completely Adrien’s mercy. If it isn’t for the stern grip on her side, it’s definitely possible she’d be nuzzling back into his chest and tucking her horns under his shoulder. “Luka? Your thoughts are going-- ah,  _ ah--  _ wild, I can’t keep up--”

“Still wondering if he’s under your spell, Princess?” Adrien’s smile curls. “Cause I think we know the answer by now.”

“I can tell you what I want the most. I want Adrien to fuck you on the floor.” Luka doesn’t even  _ blink,  _ still staring at Adrien’s fingers against her neck, completely enraptured. Luka’s thumb comes up to part at her lips, looking at her baby fangs with such heat in his eyes that it causes Adrien to shiver himself. “But not right now. I’d rather you stay right where you are, little mouse, I want to see you do this instead. We can worry about the sex later.”

Adrien’s brows raise, pausing his hand that moves her against his knee, much to Marinette’s disappointed cries. “No sex playlist or anything, Luka? At least turn on your phone since it's right there.”

“Don’t need it right now. We’re busy.” Luka’s pupils swirl with color as they make eye contact.

He’s  _ beautiful. _

If Adrien wasn’t already hard from Marinette, he’s sure that he would’ve popped a boner instantly looking at the heat burning in Luka’s eyes.

“Yeah, okay.” Adrien chuckles, biting at Marinette’s ear as she gasps. She squirms and grinds on his knee on her own, chasing her release with such desperation that it makes him hiss. What if he bends her over the counter and fucks her, just like this? “That doesn’t sound right. Looks like  _ someone _ tasted succubus come a little  _ too _ much.”

“Can you blame me?” Luka’s electric as he takes Marinette’s arm that supports her on the counter to bite and suck on her forearm. She shudders as his teeth make contact with what is presumably sensitive skin, going back to her bruised wrists to lay waste again. “Have you _seen_ her? How could I not?”

Marinette flushes the most pretty red color Adrien’s ever seen in his life.

“There’s-- actually a very--  _ oh-- _ easy way to tell if you licked me,” Marinette’s eyes roll when Adrien flexes his hand at her throat just a bit to get her heart pumping. He can feel her pulse against his thigh with a broken cry. “Show me your tongue, Luka? Please?”

“Gladly.” Luka’s forked tongue is filled with the shimmering gold dust of her come, and it coats the edges of his fangs. He licks at his fang, mocking Marinette by copying the way she drags the flat part of her tongue against the tip.

Adrien laughs low in her ear as she shudders again. “Would you look at that. Our Luka’s all fucked up, just because of you.”

Her eyelashes flutter, hiding away her soft baby blue eyes. “I should probably--  _ Adrien, oh-- _ get him to wake up so that he doesn’t--  _ ah-- _ doesn’t miss this.”

Hm. Adrien’s fist starts to squeeze lightly. “Good idea. Why don’t you get him to stop lusting after you just as you’re coming? I can tell you’re close, Princess. Don’t you think it’ll be a pretty sight for him to see?”

She nods with a broken little whine. “Okay. Okay-- yes-- I’ll do it-- Adrien please, hurry.”

“I’d love that.” Luka sticks his thumb into her mouth for her to suck. Marinette squeals behind his finger, wrapping her long tongue into a tight loop around his palm as she tries her best not to shudder.

She’s close to bursting when Adrien angles her hips higher up on his thigh, seating her fully down on the top of his leg only by the strength of his grip on her hip. He squeezes his fist tighter on her neck, whispering so softly into her ear that it must hurt. “Actually, you know what, Princess? I’ve changed my mind. Why don’t you come  _ now?” _

She starts to sob.

She doesn’t move at all save for her hand that clenches on Adrien’s shoulder, tears springing freely from her eyes as she rides out another orgasm. She’s stiff in his hands, body locked, and perfectly stable on his thigh as he releases his grip on her hip to help push her along with his fingers on her clit instead. She shakes with a cry as he touches her.

Luka exhales at the sight of her tail unwrapping itself from Adrien’s elbow and winces as she pricks him with her spade as it shakes in time with the tight little swirls Adrien gives her clit with his pointer and ring finger. The film in Luka’s eyes slowly starts to disappear as he continues to blink, watching with perfect blue eyes as Marinette comes and gushes slick and gold dust on Adrien’s leg.

What a pretty sight.

Marinette collapses forward into Luka when she’s able to move again with a sad little noise, slowly slipping off of Adrien’s thigh with another squelch. She can’t stand on her own, her chest heaving for more air. Her legs shiver, burying her face into Luka’s chest, inkspill hair slipping over her shoulders to cover Adrien’s view of her freckles.

Her tail can’t stop itself from dragging against the tile as she gasps for air, hands tight on Luka’s waist.

Luka continues to blink, pressing a kiss onto her left horn. “You feeling better, little mouse?”

“Yeah, I just-- give--” She all but jumps when Adrien’s hands clasp at her tail. He doesn’t pull, but rather just coaxes it to come closer so he can press kisses onto the leathery skin. “Give me a second-- I’m a little out of it--”

Luka looks down at her in his arms as if he’s opened his eyes for the first time. “Wow.  _ Wow.  _ Marinette? I think I want more of that. Is that what you taste like with your magic?”

Marinette nods into his chest so weakly that Adrien barely recognizes it. 

How good actually is it, Adrien wonders, for Luka to want to do it again so willingly?

_ I want Luka to taste me again, too. _

“How’d you realize he was already starting to get affected, Princess?” Adrien leans against the counter and kisses the twitching spade in his hand. His voice is fucked, low, and filled with gravel.

“Intuition,” She speaks into Luka’s robe. Is she crying or laughing? “Luka was sending all kinds of things into my head.”

Adrien reaches a long arm behind him for whatever fruit he can grab. He perks at the smooth surface of grapes against his fingertips. He pops a couple into his mouth. “What kind of things?”

She looks exhausted when she finally manages to peel away from Luka’s chest, but quickly blinks it away into a beautiful smile. She pulls her hair back from her face with a hand, pulling down more on the band at her ribs to give her a better chance to breathe. “You’ll find out soon enough, kitty-cat. Also, are you feeling better, Luka? Adrien, for the love of  _ god,  _ keep your hands off of the-- did you eat  _ all _ of them?”

Adrien winces when she thwacks him with her spade against his thigh when she checks the grape pile. If she keeps hitting him he’s going to start to bruise.  _ Hot.  _ He hopes that he’ll be completely purple by the time she’s done with him. “Sorry. But also not sorry.”

She groans, but there’s no heat in it in the slightest. She’s too busy trying to get her legs to stop struggling to keep her upright. Adrien willingly catches ahold of her waist when she falters again on her legs. So sensitive.

So perfect.

“Feeling much better. But I would love to be back under the spell.” Luka searches through the plastic bags for anything to put away. He’s amused, if not a little exasperated, when he reaches a certain bag-- and has to lift up his head to make eye contact with Marinette from where he is on the floor. “Tell me you’re stashing for the winter, little mouse. Is this a normal amount of cheese for you?”

She makes a pretty pout with her lips, her waterline still filled with tears she hasn’t shed yet. “Cheese is  _ good _ for you. Good protein content. And I can tell you two don’t skip out on it.”

“Did you buy only cheese?”

“I bought dry cuts, too. I just didn’t know if anyone here was vegan, so I didn’t buy too much of it.” She stops and stares at her hands with an upset look on her face. “Oh. Being vegan would’ve stopped you from having cheese, too, wouldn’t it?”

“It would’ve,” Luka’s easy to smooth her over. “But it’s fine. We eat meat.”

_ I wish I could finish the food prep quicker. I want to hurry this up and give Adrien a taste of his own medicine. _

Uh oh.

“But is that all?” She gestures vaguely with her paring knife, trying to go back to what she was doing. She’s still a little weak in the knees, so she just looks lethargic when she waves it in the air, still using Adrien as a physical crutch.  _ “Just _ protein? You two don’t look anywhere near heavy eaters. How long have you two gone without carbs?  _ Sugars?  _ Have you two even touched a sugar before? Ever? Like icecream?”

Adrien hums in thought, slipping her tail off his elbow so she can curl it around her leg. “I’ve never had ice cream.”

“Not this year, no.” Luka’s laughter is easy in his chest.

Her eyes widen. “Cheesecake? Dulce de leche? Brigadeiro?  _ Nutella?” _

“Not a fan.” Luka shrugs.

Adrien winces. “I don’t know what those last three even are. Are you just sneezing out Latin words at us? I’ll admit, I’m a little rusty--”

She has the audacity to gasp, blue eyes shiny and  _ healthy. _ Adrien’s heart zings at the sight. “Chocolate? Please say yes to at least  _ chocolate.” _

“I’ll eat them. I don’t go out of my way to buy them.” Adrien can’t stop himself from laughing at how disappointed she looks and helps her out by making her fridge bigger for her. He makes sure that the pears don’t fall off the plates as he stores them on one of the new racks he’s given her, eyeing just how many unopened jars of juice she has stored in glass wine bottles in the back. 

She waits until Luka shrugs in agreement. “Monsters. The both of you.”

“You could even say we’re demons,” Adrien rolls his eyes. Satisfied with all of the progress she’s made on the fruit department, she worms underneath Adrien’s arm to search for something. Her horns are dull at the ends, and he’s thankful that they don’t rip into the robe as she butts into him.

She’s cuddly in her own weird way. “Okay, I’m done cutting up food. I’m tired. If I see another uncut strawberry I’ll cry. Luka, flip a coin.”

Luka’s voice is smooth. “I don’t have a coin on me.”

Marinette sighs. “Fine. Adrien, pick heads or tails.”

It takes him way too long for him to pick. “Heads.”

“Perfect!” She grabs for his arm, barely missing a beat. “You’re first.”

“I feel like that was your answer regardless of what I picked,” But Adrien follows her anyway, out of the kitchen. Luka follows behind the two of them with a laugh. Her tail curls and thumps against his torso as she gently guides him to the room at the back of the hallway, and she pushes the door open after a bit of a struggle.

Her laughter is weak in her mouth as the door creaks open. His eyes widen at the sight of real, genuine comforters and blankets on the bed instead of whatever dungeon he’d imagined. There’s nothing in the room that indicates that it’s a room used for sex, but it’s so plain in terms of wall decor that Adrien understands immediately that there’s something different about the room, considering that Marinette seems prone to hoarding.

The bedroom is huge.

Even by Adrien’s standards, the bedroom is  _ massive. _ The walls are abnormally tall given that they’re still in an apartment, and he knows instantly that Marinette’s magic is the one creating the room. It’s bigger than her living room and kitchen  _ combined, _ and the size reminds him of his old bedroom back when he lived in hell. 

The bedroom is covered with pillows and white blankets. They adorn just about every surface as if it were a collage of furs-- placed delicately and neatly on the extra two chairs on the far end, or hang off the pillows on the floor. It’s hard to see the mattress underneath the nest of wrapped fabrics, each and every one smelling just as ancient as the robe on him. It dawns on him that, in some way, this room is some sort of Cradle for her. A Cradle filled with pillows and comforting blankets that look too soft to ruin, too perfectly placed to mistreat.

There’s a mirror against the wall facing the bed that spans the entirety of the wall, and Adrien relaxes once he recognizes it.  _ That’s _ more attuned to what Adrien had imagined the room being, because if there’s  _ anything _ that Marinette is, it’s someone that can’t stop looking at herself in the mirror.

The room smells like Marinette. But not in the sex smell, but rather the sweet, soft-- comforting and familiar smell that he got a whiff of when she’d taken the shower and walked down the stairs to see Nathaniel. It permeates the room so subtly that it makes his eyes water. 

The bed is framed with four oddly shaped pillars, each with different widths. They’re enormous, towering over Adrien’s height like mantles, reaching up to the tall ceiling of the room. He can’t stop himself from letting his eyes wander and attempt to appreciate the view in front of him. He  _ likes _ the bed-- he likes the way that the pillars that bracket the mattress are covered with pink fabric that hangs like a cabana.

It’s a beautiful sight to behold. He’d never would’ve guessed that this was what had been hiding behind the door. He’s never seen so much royal pinks and creams in his life. He honestly had expected a sex dungeon of some kind, given that Marinette seems quick to tease and edge and slap. He can’t stop looking around.

Marinette hums appreciatively at whatever she sees and deposits Adrien onto the mattress with a lot more strength than what should be possible, given her size. He lands with a bounce against cold faux fur at the edge of the bed, staring at her with quizzical eyes.

* * *

_ “Please _ change the-- oh,  _ fuck-- _ the song.”

It’s a miracle that Adrien can even talk. Maybe she’s just not trying hard enough.

She pulls him out of her mouth with a sticky tongue, keeping a firm grip on the base of his dick, and has to pause to take a deep breath before she’s giggling and laughing. She distracts her mouth by teething at Adrien’s sensitive thighs-- letting her fangs graze and scrape the tanned flesh to keep herself from laughing as hard as her body is threatening her to do.

Adrien’s at the edge of the mattress, soft blankets nesting him into his spot. He’s an angelic sight from where Marinette kneels in front of him, cushioned by the plush rug under her knees and calves, and the irony is not totally lost on her. Tan, buttery skin shivers against her fingers as she traces his abs with her other hand, following the harsh planes of his body in no particular pattern. He’s  _ beautiful.  _ And so  _ responsive _ to her touches.

She can’t wait to make him unable to be with anyone else other than her and Luka.

Luka sucks blacks and blues and gold dust into Adrien’s shoulder, marking his perfect body the way he wants to. “I will if you’re nice enough.”

“Don’t get--  _ fuck, Marinette-- _ smart with me, Luka, that’s her job. Don’t stoop to her level.” Adrien’s eyes are glossy and dark with energy, and he strains to keep them focused enough to talk. “I’m not coming to-- to  _ Soft Cell. _ We’ve been--  _ oh-- _ over this.”

“Are you asking me to prove you wrong?” It’s hard for her to talk with so much saliva in her mouth, so she swallows it down. Marinette laves her tongue over the area she’s pricked too hard, blotches of red already pluming on his skin. His dick twitches in her hand as if he has ideas of what she could mean, and his shuddering breath puffs against her face as she looks up with a stern glare. She waves her fingers in the air in a threat. “Poor little kitty-cat, completely at my mercy.”

“Forgive me for--  _ ah-- _ having standards.” Adrien is somehow able to keep up the facade that he isn’t starting to crack between her fingers as they speak. She just needs to try harder.

Adrien’s cock is thick and proud in her hand, twitching and heavy. Fat beads of precome drip from him whenever she squeezes her fist up to milk him, and it tastes so  _ heavenly _ against her tongue that she can’t actively avoid her mewling and sighing. 

She doesn’t have enough brain space to keep herself from sounding so wanting.

Marinette unravels her tongue back out of her mouth to catch an escaped drop, letting her saliva bead and drip with wet plops onto the tip head of his dick. She can’t keep the appreciation and heat in her body from staining her eyes as she licks up the candy-sweet liquid. 

She knows her eyes are black and vapid as she looks up, glittering with hunger. She wishes she could finger at her choker, but can’t-- it’s been thrown to the side haphazardly by Adrien so that she can let her real skin and eyes show.

She thinks she looks lovely with just the black band on her body, completely devoid of all other clothes, staring up at the two of them with blackened eyes and porcelain skin. And she knows the two of them think the same, sending so many visions of them coming down her throat or into her core with her looking just like this, that it’s making her brain fog up. 

Her thong is somewhere, off of her, away from the plush area rug at the foot of the bed. Luka’s made it clear that he doesn’t want it on her anymore with the way he’s helped her out so  _ good _ and  _ well _ with his fingers and mouth. Slick and warmth pulse on her achingly empty walls, already missing Luka’s smooth tongue and sharp fangs, so she dips a finger or two inside to calm her heat from progressing any further. 

She wants him  _ back. _ She wants him on his knees and flicking her clit with that forked tongue of his as she continues to drive Adrien buck wild, but she’s already come twice from it-- balancing precariously against a third-- and her ass is still stinging from the harsh blows he’d given her in order to make her stay still and take it. And  _ did _ she. 

She’s such a good girl.

She probably has a tattooed handprint on her asscheek, and a tight bruise on her hip already starting to purple. She throbs at the want that makes her fingers curl in her sex, seeking out a resolution for her third orgasm. But not yet. She’ll wait. It’s time for Adrien to get the same treatment, instead.

She swallows his dick whole again just as the song changes. Adrien  _ groans. _

Luka keeps her head exactly where it is with a firm hand at the back of her neck, squeezing tight with his fingertips. Lovely tears prick at the sides of her eyes as Adrien gasps at her swallowing throat, scrabbling against her horns in an attempt to make up his mind. 

He  _ wants  _ her, sending so many visions of him pouring down her throat, and it sends her into such a frenzy that it makes her fingers pump harder into her sex, completely devoid of reasoning. But he also wants to  _ last,  _ as if he’ll be able to force her head off of him like he isn’t curling over her as she caresses his balls. __

The poor guy. He has no choice-- in the end, he’ll spill right down her throat, and she’ll be so happy to eat.

She pinches at the air, grabbing a hold of his orgasm regardless of not being ready to pull down just yet-- but Adrien  _ howls  _ all the same.

He snaps his hips up to sink further into her mouth with a breathless pant. There’s a hand grabbing at her hair, pulling up-- maybe it’s Luka’s, she can’t feel the hand at the back of her neck anymore-- and trying not to let her choke or something of the sort. But she keeps her head down, keeps swallowing around Adrien’s fever, letting her tail twitch and curl around someone’s ankle, refusing to budge a centimeter higher.

“Please--  _ please--” _

She can’t look up to him from how they’re positioned, folded into him like a moveable doll, but she doesn’t  _ have _ to. The visions are enough to imagine what his face looks like, and it’s enough to make slick drip out of her and follow the curve of her wrist and down onto the rug underneath her folded legs. Adrien’s in  _ pain.  _

He uses her like a sleeve, hands tight enough on her horns that she sees stars and galaxies at the edges of her mind and it makes the visions hazy. He fucks into her throat so desperately, with such a feral-like snarl that she’s sighing along with him. 

She lets her fingers unpinch at the last second, slipping her own fingers out of her. And Adrien goes  _ nuts. _

“Marinette-- please,  _ please. Please let me come.” _ There’s babbling in between his words, but there’s nothing more to distinguish because Luka makes sure to swallow the rest of his cries with his lips. Marinette’s able to pull away just enough in order to watch, her tongue curling around the base of his cock to keep any spare drops of precome from falling out anywhere other than her mouth. She wants all of it. She wants it  _ all. _

She licks him up with a hunger that shakes her entire body.

“Not yet, my sweet.” She forces herself to say, her voice fractured and broken, still from being laid to waste back at the kitchen, where Adrien had forced her to sing praises to heaven and earth alike while he forced her to come on his leg. She  _ liked _ it. She wants  _ more. _ She goes back to squeezing and milking with her hands and tongue.

Luka’s slow, but not gentle in the way that he kisses Adrien. He forces their mouths open with gold-dusted lips and tongue and flashing fangs that click when they angle their heads to the side. She knows that Adrien’s tasting her on Luka’s tongue, because it registers in the air as one of the most desperate noises to come from him, and Adrien’s fist is brutal and unrelenting on her right horn.

Gold dust smears over Adrien’s lips and tongue beautifully. She can see peeks of it when Luka kisses at his jawline, the way his plush lips are stained with her come.

It’s a beautiful sight to witness Adrien panting, desperation hurting him  _ right _ in the area where she needs it to, and he lets one of his hands slip off of her horns so he can pet at Luka’s decorated abs.

She was right. Luka  _ was _ hiding his body behind the ugly bartending clothes.

Lord have mercy on her.

She knew there were tattoos on him, she knew that they were  _ there.  _ But she wasn’t aware of the piercings. She hadn’t registered the piercings in the visions that Adrien had shown her earlier on in the night. There are four little black dots just below his collarbone, and Marinette’s eyes had widened at the sight of them when his robe had first slipped off.

She’s never seen piercings there before. The  _ clavicle?  _ Doesn’t that hurt? She’s never seen anything like it before, and it caught her so off guard that she’d immediately started salivating. And that was coming from someone who’s entire demon species express themselves entirely through jewelry.

Not to mention, of course, the other piercings she hadn’t been made aware of. Of course he has nipple piercings. Of  _ course _ he does.

Luka’s tattoos haven’t disappointed her in the slightest. They’re two massive snakes, facing in opposite directions spiral on his ribs, but they aren’t mirrored on either side like she’d thought when she’d first seen the vision of them-- they’re two different designs altogether. 

Both go from hipbone up to the chest, and they twist and curl into themselves into similar geometric patterns. From the brief glances she’s been able to take since he’s been in front of her, she can recognize that the snakes are massive and long against his skin-- one curls from top to bottom and ends at the navel, the other curls from bottom to top and ends at his chest.

The artwork on his skin looks as fresh as if he’s only had them for weeks, not thousands of years. Marinette  _ loves _ them already, and wonders what the texture will feel like on her tongue. Luka’s next on her target list, if he keeps looking so gorgeous, with all his muscle and inked skin and jewelry, but she’s patient with time. She’ll have Adrien sinking to his knees soon enough, and she’s in no rush to expedite anything. She’ll feed. 

It’s not a matter of if.

She pinches her fingers in the air again, grasping at the prophetic string, watching Adrien struggle and bend at the lack of mouth on his cock to keep him in check. She kisses at his thighs, and then back at his balls-- uses a bit of fang to suck on the vein that pulses so heavy on the underside of his cock to the point where he gasps. She’s giggling to herself as he pulses and twitches under her hand that continues to squeeze.

He pulls away from Luka’s mouth with a moan. “Please, please, please,  _ Marinette--” _

She finds herself humming, looking up at him with expectant eyes, mulling over if she should let him. She wants more. She wants all of it. But Adrien’s never experienced true edging before-- at least, that’s what he’s told her. He deserves to find out just how intoxicating it is to continue cresting and falling, to find out how pervasive the itch to orgasm can  _ truly _ get. 

What would happen if she didn’t let him come for the entire night?

The entire week?

Would he  _ break? _

Adrien’s moans fracture in his mouth as she wrings him in her loose fist, never pushing him over the edge that he so desperately seeks. She giggles as his hips lift to follow her hand. “Luka, what do you think?”

Luka eyes are  _ burning  _ as he thinks it over. “I think you should switch with me. Keep using your magic on him-- I have an idea.” 

She grins in agreement, stretches out her tail and legs as she gets off her knees. It’s hard to toss her hair from across her shoulders and behind her while still keeping three of her fingers together at the fingertips, but she manages. Adrien can’t keep his eyes off of her, empty hands reaching for her hips and thighs to grab. 

She squeals when Adrien pulls her closer by the waist, toppling her over onto the mattress and sending her sprawling on his chest and torso. Her hair curtains the both of them like an inkspill, blocking out the light and making Adrien’s eyes look even more glossy with energy. “Adrien-- what are--”

“Let me  _ come, _ Princess, please--” Her tail bats at his knees as she laughs and struggles to pull herself up onto her elbows. She manages to pull herself up just enough to angle herself away from him, but Adrien refuses to let go in favor of sucking and biting at the sensitive skin just above her nipples. His arms are iron around her waist and upper back, trapping her with his strong biceps, not moving a fraction of a centimeter no matter how hard she squirms. “Please,  _ please.” _

She’s giggling, petting at Adrien’s soft hair with a hand, using her other elbow to support herself. His eyes are jewels in the dim lighting, blonde lashes tickling her chest as he continues to bite and suck. “Poor Adrien, reduced to begging when he finally can’t get what he wants.”

His teeth prick her in retaliation.

“Oh!” Marinette’s gasp turns into half of a whine, her body flooding with coarse heat. The two demons are  _ biters--  _ yes,  _ definitely, _ and she’ll be chewed up entirely before the first night is even over. Her pale skin will never be able to recover, and dimly she prays that she never will.

She goes  _ electric _ when she continues to struggle out of Adrien’s grasp and the backs of her thighs find Luka’s hips, and in her laughter her fingers unstick from one another. Adrien’s body flops from all the tension leaving his body after being held on the edge for a long time, but he doesn’t let his hold on her falter. “What? Marinette-- oh, no, please,  _ please.” _

She giggles. “I’m sorry, my little pet, I didn’t mean to let you go.”

“You’re a monster,” Adrien’s breath his shallow and hard against her chest as he noses her, moving her like a doll against his body to grind her stomach and then her thighs into his hardness that’s trapped between them. There’s friction from how syrupy her thighs are from her come, but even  _ still _ it’s not enough-- Adrien is desperate, hips pistoning uselessly, working hard for his release he can’t have. “You’re an absolute  _ monster.” _

“You think so? And here I was, helping you out,” She smiles into a chaste kiss with the demon underneath her. She tastes herself on his lips, soft swirls of deadly-sweet candy that makes their mouths glossy. Their lips bridge shiny with saliva and her come when she pulls away to inspect him and look at how his eyes are dilated and hazy with need.

Luka lets her enjoy the feeling of Adrien desperately bucking into her thigh before he grabs at the base of her tail with a firm hand, and she can feel herself tense up as the feeling-- her spade slapping against Adrien’s knees over and over in an attempt to squirm away. 

She’s struggling to pull free from Luka’s grip on her tail as he lifts it up to get better access to what he wants, and she’s also struggling to pull free from Adrien that refuses to budge. The sweet feeling of being rendered useless by the demons that sandwich her for the second time tonight makes her pulse spike high in danger, liking the way that a playful amount of fear licks up her throat. 

“Shift your hips up like a good girl,” Luka murmurs against the dip of her waist as her bites her again. “You know exactly how I want your back to curve.”

She does. It’s the clearest vision in her head right now.

She sobs at Luka slowly trying to enter her as she shifts her hips to his liking, his chest pressing down at her back, and she rests her head against Adrien’s shoulder.  _ “Oh-- _ Luka-- don’t be gentle, okay?”

“I wouldn’t give you anything less than what you want, little mouse.”

“Are you--” Adrien’s eyes widen when he realizes what Luka’s idea is. “You’re going to fuck her  _ ontop  _ of me?”

Luka flashes his fangs behind her, and she’s only able to see it in time when she lets her head roll to the side enough to look back. “I wonder just how long you’ll be able to last, seeing Marinette coming on top of you, knowing that you’re not the one in her.”

She sends a quick prayer when his hips snap cleanly into hers with barely any resistance. 

Just like she predicted.

Luka’s a  _ natural. _

Even without being with a succubus ever in his life, Luka knows exactly what she needs from him. He’s in tune to what she wants, how much force she wants him to apply into sinking himself in between her legs.

There’s warmth gushing down her thighs as Luka knocks her legs apart with a firm knee, forcing Marinette to straddle Adrien on the mattress, making it all the more easier for him to continue pushing all of his length into her. 

It’s a hard burn as she stretches to let him all in-- he’s so long, so so  _ long--  _ breathing heavy to relax her muscles so they don’t tear because she’s too tense. 

Instead, her toes curl and thighs tense up as her body surges with alarm and pain, balming her arousal so sweetly with hurt that she can’t stop herself from drooling on Adrien’s shoulder with a whine.

“You’re so  _ tight, _ Marinette,” His voice is breathless behind her as her tail curls against his wrist. “How is it that you’re so tight after all these years?”

She mouths at Adrien’s collarbone, too elated to respond except to sigh and gasp, still stretching-- still  _ hopelessly _ stretching as he continues to fill her up completely. It surprisingly takes her a bit of time to get him all the way inside of her, spearing into her like a well-notched arrow, curling her back even more to angle her hips better.

She wants to be perfect for him.

“I always knew you were a sadistic fucker, Luka.” Adrien growls in her ear, hopelessly chained to his own impending orgasm.

Luka shudders as she forcibly squeezes him. “Wait your turn, Adrien. You’ll get exactly what you deserve. God, you’re so slick and warm, little mouse.”

“Wait my  _ turn?” _ Adrien almost turns petulant, desperate-- so  _ desperate, just because of her, the Prince of hell is desperate--  _ “Flip her over so I can use her ass, at least. Please. I need to-- I  _ need--” _

Luka finally seats himself fully into her. Her eyes roll, her walls pulsing and aching,  _ fluttering _ and desperate to take all of it, take everything in. Demons are always so good to her. Demons are always her preferred prey. 

But Luka, oh,  _ Luka… _

Perfect. So perfect. Her body was made for him, surely. There’s no other way.

She pinches her fingers together, and Adrien cuts himself off from whatever sentence was forming in his mouth. He bucks at the same time as Luka does, dragging his cock against her thigh, aching and heavy and weeping with precome. He hisses, baring fangs, refusing to let go of his grip on her upper back, and Marinette swears the galaxies and stars in her vision are getting brighter.

“You’ll survive just for a little longer without coming, won’t you, Adrien?” Luka relaxes his grip on the base of her tail. “You’re always so good to me. Can’t you be good just a little while longer?”

Someone grabs onto one of her horns, and Marinette can’t do anything but mewl. Adrien sounds  _ breathless _ underneath her. “Eat a dick.”

Luka pistons into her. She cries at the warmth that spreads down her thighs and coats Adrien’s hips, slick covering everything it can reach. Stars coat her eyelids as she squeezes them tight, letting go of the prophetic string in favor of digging her fingers into Adrien’s tan skin instead. She hides her face into his chest, nothing in her head except  _ more, more, more. _

Marinette can’t focus on their words any longer, eyes already starting to glaze and her vision starting to tear. Luka swears profusely as she pulses around him,  _ milking _ him as if he’s already been tended to, too weak to stop herself from coming.

She pulls at the air again with such desperation that Adrien catches himself mid-sentence, struggling beneath her, chest hard and tight on her cheek. But she doesn’t pull down. Even as Luka continues to push his muscular hips into the swell of her ass-- even as Marinette can’t see anything but white as heat and slick and come consume her-- Adrien’s left breathless, hanging on desperately by a thread.

“Very well, Princess.” Marinette catches the last of Adrien’s words as his laughter is loud and clear in her ear. “You want to see how much I can last? I’ll give you a fight.”

* * *

Adrien’s keeping up longer than she’s expected him to.

He’s aggressive, sure. Not in a necessarily violent way. He doesn’t hurt her in an ‘I want to kill you’ way, but rather an ‘I want this bruise to stay on your skin permanently’ way. He bites, sucks, makes her cry out with her tongue the same way that Luka’s done. There’s no need for any necklaces or anklets or bracelets or coating herself in jewels, now that Adrien has made it his life sentence to give her the most sparklingly beautiful purples and blues he can give her.

His eyes burn and spark as he borders the edge, panting,  _ distraught,  _ and in pain. She keeps her fingers pinched, even after she’s pricked him to get the initial fog out of his eyes to see if he still wants this little game to continue.

He  _ does. _

She doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he’s doing this to himself now. He’s not under her spell. She’s already pricked him twice just to make sure. She’s certain he knows that he’s the one holding himself back, the way that he forces his hips to stutter every few minutes, knocking himself off of a rhythm that she can’t identify just yet, but she  _ loves _ it. She thrives off of his begging, his rolling eyes, his sweating skin that tastes like gold and damnation against her tongue as she licks at his battered and bruised neck.

Adrien bites onto Luka’s forearm, the one that’s wrapped around his mouth to keep him from biting at Marinette’s skin till she bleeds. She doesn’t mind being bit till there’s blood-- she  _ likes _ the fear that comes with a demon biting down. It makes her feel like she can actually die from it, like she’s a human caught in a trap. It makes her feel alive.

But Luka doesn’t want anything seriously altering happening to her, like a bite that cuts too deep into her skin, as if her core hasn’t already been shaped perfectly to his cock forever. She’s not sure he realizes it at all.

And there  _ might _ be blood from the bite that Adrien continues to lock his jaw on-- Luka is hissing behind him, laughing low as Adrien tries so  _ hard _ to make the demon behind him come so that he can focus on other things like begging and pleading-- but Marinette isn’t really sure. She, too, is busy with other things. 

Luka uses him to fuck into her.

It’s  _ so good. _

It’s Adrien’s time to get sandwiched, and there’s a hard streak of sadistic pleasure glinting in Luka’s eyes as he drills into Adrien, using him as a living toy to fuck into Marinette’s ass. Luka fucks Adrien with practiced skill, knowing exactly how to position his hips and piston into the younger demon to the point where he’s seeing stars.

Adrien takes his cock like it’s natural.

Marinette, too, is seeing stars. Adrien’s speared her open, hilting himself all the way into the cleft of her ass. She’s so full and thick of him that she can barely breathe. Adrien won’t be able to come in her sex for just a little while longer, as she continues to tease him. She wants to see him break first. But.  _ But. _

She can get used to this. 

She  _ loves _ this. 

She can’t stop looking at how beautiful the three of them look in the mirror, stacked on top of each other, Adrien squeezing her wrists above her so painfully that she can’t even wince-- just shudder and watch. Luka is so fluid as he moves that the snakes on his skin come to life. Adrien is so beautiful that she can’t tear her eyes away from the mirror.

There’s no point in pricking either of them with her tail to get rid of the fog in their eyes. For the first time in her life, she’s not the reason why the churning abyss in their eyes is there. She’s not the one who put it there. 

Adrien’s consumed by his own greed, continuously begging her to keep pushing him harder and harder. Adrien’s in  _ love _ with edging, with the way she holds him just at the cliff-face with her swirled fingertips. He’s trying to prove something to her, Marinette’s sure, with the way he keeps stalling out his own orgasm.

And Luka’s too busy grinding and moving his hips, using Adrien to make sparks fly across Marinette’s eyes in pleasure. Every single slap of Luka’s hips into Adrien just seats him further and further into her ass. She feels as if she’s breaking apart, stitch by stitch.

“My sweet little kitty,” Her voice is cracked and gone. “Don’t you want to come?”

“Not yet.” Adrien licks at the bite on Luka’s arm, staining the air with his glowing eyes. “Not until you do, at least.”

“Adrien,” She’s cut off by his laughter, by the way he kisses her and introduces his tongue into her mouth. She mewls and whines, her body shivering and fluttering, desperate for the release of her own. She wants him. She wants Adrien so  _ badly.  _ Him in her ass isn’t enough for her.

“Look at you,” Adrien pulls away, settling back onto his knees so there’s enough space in between them so he can pet at her ribs with his huge hands. “Look at how beautiful you are.”

She blushes, watching Luka nip and bite at Adrien’s closest shoulder while groaning, the way his cock in her ass pulses heavy with precome to the point that he’s weeping fluid. “Please let me make you come.”

“Not a chance,” He laughs. His hands feel hot and feel like they’re branding the skin on her ribs as he continues to hold her down. Adrien fucks into her on his own accord, completely off sync with Luka behind him, and the sound of the offbeat slapping is so lewd that Marinette can’t help but sinch down on the emptiness inside of her. “I told you, I’m going to exhaust  _ you _ first.”

Oh.

She understands now why succubi instinctually fear demons when they are held for the first time. 

She understands now why demons are different than succubi, how demons have been in charge of hell since the beginning of time. 

Adrien is nothing if not the raw energy that crackles and sizzles against her skin, as he tweaks her pebbled nipples between his fingers. He’s a loaded gun with those burning eyes, a pulled grenade pin with that wolfish smile, a blade of a sword that catches the glare of the sun from the way he sears her flesh with his hands. He’s the two sharp fangs that glint white in the night-- the fangs that have kept up succubi from sleeping soundly for thousands of years.

Marinette’s orgasm squeezes on emptiness as he grins at her, stroking a heavy thumb in perfect circles on her clit, and she’s consumed in pleasure.

* * *

She fucks Luka’s face on request.

He didn’t have to ask, really. It wasn’t an offer. She’s more or less deposited herself there the moment the thought had crossed his mind to ask her.

He’s suffering under the desires that burst and expand in his chest the longer that Adrien continues to punish himself using Marinette’s magic, riding Luka’s cock like he’s already learned how to do. He’s saddled himself onto Luka’s hips, spread those long buttery-tan legs of his, and had sunk down with little to no preamble. Luka needs a break from the wants and needs that curl and spark and sizzle and  _ glow-- _ that force him to breathe thick, and let the fog settle in his mouth from how wanting he is-- and Marinette is the lifeline he requires in order to not drown in the tidal waves.

It was like this two years ago, too. He’s learned the hard way before that Adrien refuses to take the easy way out of anything, opting to take the most dangerous route. He’s dead set on proving Marinette wrong, and Luka’s watching with much interest as the young demon burns through his reserves and strength,  _ trying so desperately not to give in, _ even though Luka can feel it in his broken soul that Adrien wants nothing more than to come.

_ I wish to prove Marinette wrong. _

Marinette sits on his face willingly. Perfectly. It’s enough to keep him from going crazy.

She’s slick, gold dust, heaven-sent sweetness that he can’t help but drink up with a forked tongue with a parchness that leaves him confused.

There’s the tang of come, too-- his is there, and he can taste it in his mouth. He’s never been a fan of tasting come, definitely not a fan of it as Marinette is, but he can’t find himself to care when she’s mewling and squirming above him. He must be under the spell, surely, with the way he’s so desperate to get her off and help her, as his face and neck and parts of his hair are definitely drenched with fluid.

She’s so responsive to their touches. Not in the way that Adrien is.

He’d assumed that after a while, Marinette would become almost numb to normal sex. After all, thousands of years of having the same old positions, the same old tricks, the same sensation against her body would’ve sent her into a numbing state. He’d been a little worried that she wouldn’t be all that impressed with having sex, the way that he isn’t impressed with having alcohol.

But that’s not true at all.

Marinette isn’t numb to any of it.

Her legs are shaking against his ears and jaw as he swirls his tongue against her clit, or spear her open with a harsh suck that makes her cry. He can’t stop himself from sliding his hands across her thighs, holding her in place as she cries wantonly, and her tail slaps the headboard with such strength it almost knocks Luka’s thoughts out of him at the noise.

Marinette is beautiful.

He doesn’t have to be in between her legs to know that. But it’s a wonderful idea anyway.

He’s in love with her pallid skin, the gorgeous way her body stains with color so easily. She’s littered with marks on her shoulders and hips and thighs and back, not to mention her ass, taking on purple bruises and red bites that look like they ache and burn. 

They’re good replacements for the jewels that should cover her, for the black and gold bands that are common on succubus skin that he can remember from his time underground, but he still wonders where the jewelry is. Marinette should be covered in gold, he’s pretty sure.

Either way, she’s not the only one covered in bruises. Luka’s made sure to mark up Adrien as much as he could before he heals himself. Adrien is a different breed altogether, if his groans are anything to go by. Luka is sincerely impressed by how he’s still holding on, still forcing Marinette to pay attention to him.

He loves how her eyes continue to grow blacker the longer she eats from him-- on him  _ alone, _ still waiting on Adrien to stop promoting his ego-stretching campaign-- so she takes everything he has. 

He loves it. He’ll give her everything.

He’s never given energy away like this before.

She’s nothing he’s ever seen,  _ docile _ in the way she controls the two of them but  _ firm _ in the way she takes from them, black eyes holding too much information for him to be able to read her if he wasn’t busy trying to get her walls to convulse around his tongue again. She takes  _ everything _ from him. Luka can’t do anything but let her as his energy slips between willing open fingers.

She dips forward as he gives a particular lick down her seam, her small hands gripping tight against his ribs, rubbing her fingertips on his tattoos as she mewls. 

She’s kissed him everywhere, opting for a more delicate approach as opposed to Adrien who’d laid claim on any surface possible and had left bite marks. Her saliva soothed the perfect pains on his body, coating the area in a thick balm. She’s a refreshing little goddess, simultaneously tender and careful with them to not hurt them, while still keeping Adrien on a tight leash, ready to snap.

She breaks away from the kiss she’s inserted herself onto with Adrien, being able to talk because her fangs are still hidden. Marinette refuses to give in and let her fangs show, and Luka wonders why. “Can I  _ now, _ Adrien?”

“No.” Adrien’s laughter is tight in his chest, continuing to ping supernova stars and vacuous black holes into the fog. He’s the other that refuses to give in. “Not yet.”

It’s Luka that comes this time, deep inside Adrien, when Marinette laughs softly to herself and pulls at the air with her other hand.

_ Come for me, little pet. It’ll be so good for me when you come. _

* * *

Adrien finally eases off once Luka’s done for the night.

Marinette tends to Luka as he sleeps heavily, unconscious, folding a blanket over his cooling skin and resting a pillow behind his head. He’s a heavenly sight, beautiful dyed hair long against his neck and almost at his shoulders, his long eyelashes like a smudge against his cheekbones. 

She prides herself on being a considerate lover. But she also prides herself on being a considerate Cradler, too.

Which means that she, above all things, makes sure that Luka is comfortable when he sleeps. It’s in her  _ nature  _ to make Luka more at ease in his sleep, to make sure that his comfort comes first. She uses her magic to make the room cold enough that he easily curls into the blanket that she’s wrapped up to his chest, and uses the silence in the room to her advantage as she presses a kiss to his forehead, and then just above the brow bone. Perfect. He’s perfect.

Instinct makes her want to puppy-pile with him as he sleeps-- maybe tuck his head into the side of her soft thigh, or the nip of her waist so she can keep a better eye on him while he rests. She wants to make sure he’s okay, and that he sleeps well.

She’s probably taken too much from him-- he looks a little too pale. She fiddles with a lock of his hair between her red fingernails, brushing his sweaty bangs back so she can look at him better, checking for any more signs of overexertion. He doesn’t look like he’s in pain while he sleeps, which is a good sign, but she’s worried. Luka’s always been pale-- not as much as her, of course, but he’s not tan like Adrien. But he’s maybe a little  _ too  _ pale. 

She needs a towel to wipe him off-- she knows that demon’s noses are sensitive to smell when it’s early in the morning. She needs to get food for him when he wakes up, too. He’ll be too weak to stand, even if he isn’t hurting in any place. She should probably go get the trays of food ready since she’s the only one lucid enough. 

“He’s just sleeping, Princess. Don’t cry.” Well, she’s not the  _ only _ one awake. Adrien’s still awake, leaning up against the headboard while he pants hard, staring at her with a certain emotion in his eyes that makes her shiver. 

It’s been, what, four hours? And she’s drained Luka back to back to back to back to--? 

She’s not good with time, nor good at counting-- not with so much come in her that her body struggles to filter and absorb after centuries-- and while she’d  _ like _ to count how many times she’s been filled with Luka’s come, her brain refuses to do anything in favor of just letting her breathe easy and contently. It’s impossible to try to keep thinking, not when she sees Adrien’s eyes continue to burn and swirl, boring holes into her thighs as slick and come beads down her legs.

She’s full for the night. That definitely doesn’t mean that she won’t take seconds or thirds-- Marinette’s learned her lesson on skipping meals that are presented to her. Anything more than what she has in her body will be a well-deserved treat after what she’s suffered through in order to get to where she is now. She deserves more, even if her body is aching and almost feverish from being fed too quickly. 

She smiles towards him, knowing, crawling her way towards Adrien on the mattress, settling her hands against the sides of his hips so that she can sag against him. She wipes at her eyes free from tears, cursing herself for taking too much out of Luka for the first night. Succubi instincts are just trying to make her feel bad.

Luka’s suffering the entire brunt of her feeding because Adrien refuses to budge. It’s funny, she thinks, knowing that Luka doesn’t mind it in the slightest-- he’s enjoying the little show is Adrien putting on with far too much enjoyment for a demon-- but it’s also nerve-wracking that Adrien is deadset on proving her wrong. 

Maybe some of the strawberries will calm him down. Or her.

She kisses Adrien softly, and grips his shoulder tight in her hand. Adrien chases her lips when she tries to pull away, and wraps his hands around her waist to keep her closer. She smiles, keeping her voice soft so she won’t wake up Luka. “You won’t be able to keep doing this for the whole week, you  _ know _ that, right kitty-cat?”

“As long as I don’t go blind from it, I’m going to keep trying.” Adrien’s laughter is low in his chest as he looks over her horns to look at Luka. Something in Adrien’s posture softens. “You took a lot out of him.”

She blinks the blackness out of her eyes, replacing it with her normal blue eyes. Adrien almost looks disappointed when he looks back at her, and she busies herself with smoothing out the kinks in his messy hair instead of mulling over how infatuated he looks with her. She sniffles out a smile. “I wouldn’t have had to, if  _ someone _ wasn’t currently having a pissing contest with me.”

“Admit that you were wrong.” His smile is boyish when he registers her words, thumbing at her lips. He seems to love doing that to her. “I’ll stop if you admit that I’m not going to bend as easily as you think.”

“No.” Marinette shakes her head softly. She’s confident in her abilities, and knows that she’ll get him to agree with her. “You will.”

He looks genuinely confused. “But--”

“You’ve lasted longer than anyone I’ve ever met,” She’s able to soothe the crinkle in his brows easily with her words, petting at his jawline with both of her hands as she continues to look up at him. He’s quick to settle back down into a smile. “That much I was wrong about. But I know for a fact that you’re going to end up hurting yourself trying to prove me wrong.”

He settles back on the headboard, dragging her with him to sit in his lap. They’re a mess of scents and textures, limbs and bruises-- Adrien’s hands smooth against her back as she leans into his shoulder, her thighs squelching between his from the simmering heat of her sex. 

At the moment, her body is in a resting state, preserving energy to process the food in her. But she knows that her body will be ready almost instantly if they were to start up a second-round-- knowing that at the end of the day, she’s a creature of habit. And the habit is come.

He chuckles. “So headstrong, aren’t you?”

“I like being right.” She lets her tail hang off of her knee uselessly, the spade a dark block of color against the white sheets.

He hums, and kisses her temple when he pushes her bangs back from her face. It’s a soft little gesture that is completely at odds with the heat in his eyes, and it makes her involuntary shiver. “Do you think I’ll ever be able to prove you wrong?”

He’s starting to heal from the bites Luka’s planted onto him, and the bruises she’s kissed onto his chest are yellowing. She traces the lines on his arm, trying to keep the wracks of warmth and comfort to herself when he teethes and mouths softly at her horns. He has no idea what he’s doing is something that Cradle mates do to each other in order to show affection, but her body doesn’t stop itself from reacting to it by nestling in between his arm.

“Maybe one day, when I’ve run out of tricks to keep you on your toes with.” She giggles. She curls herself further in his lap, tucking herself further into the dip of his shoulder, watching Luka breathe and sleep. He’s so beautiful. The both of them are. “I need to get food for you two. Do you want to come with me?”

He smells perfect to her.

Adrien is a concoction of sweat, gold dust, and demon energy all packaged into tan skin. It’s  _ homely, _ almost, how the scent of his skin makes the tight ball of worry in her chest start to unravel the more and more she breathes it in. She could cry from how much she wants it to be real.

He smells like Adrien, and Luka, and her-- like that beautiful crackling energy he’d expended to keep up with her-- like the exhausted energy that Luka had poured into him. She wishes she could roll in this scent-- the scent that the three of them made  _ together--  _ coat her sinuses with it, bathe in it for days so that every succubus in the city of Paris knows that she’s taken and at peace.

It’s a wish she’ll have one day, when she gets a forever home, but it’s nice to indulge in the fantasy once in a while.

He’s silent for a little while, to the point where Marinette’s almost positive that he’s closed his eyes and dozed off as he presses his cheek into the space between her horns. He startles her when his fingers continue to count her ribs, taking her mind off of her concerns for Luka’s health. “Okay. I bend.”

She’s gentle to pull her head away, not wanting to hurt Adrien on accident with her horns. She pricks him with her tail against his calf, checking to see if he’s lucid. “What?”

“Ow.” His mouth curls, exasperated. “I’m not under the spell, you know.”

“I could’ve sworn you said you give in.” She pouts.

He laughs low, making sure to keep his voice down so that Luka won’t wake up. “I did.”

She struggles to find something to say to him, blinking up at him curiously. “Why?”

“You look so happy now that you’re fed.” He thumbs at her mouth. “And your desires are very interested in continuing to be happy. I want to feed you, too.”

Her lips part, but she can’t figure out what to respond. “What-- what are my desires right now?”

“You want to stay here forever.” His voice feels like silk against her skin as he kisses her forehead. “You don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”

She’s betrayed by her body as she blushes.  _ “Is _ this a one-time thing?”

“Absolutely not.” He snorts. She hates just how elated she gets from the confirmation, how her body surges with hope and warmth. It’s almost painful how her heart squeezes at the idea of someone staying. “I sure  _ hope _ it isn’t. I still have to prove to you that I’m not that easy to bend, and I promise I will. Even if it takes my entire lifetime. Today just doesn’t count.”

Her eyes widen. Entire life? “I--”

“So, for tonight, I give in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I sound like a broken record but I really do mean it with all my heart: thank you thank you thank you thaaaank you for your comments and kudos!!!! thank you thank you thank you!!!
> 
> I love it all so much!!!!!
> 
> I'll see you next week!!!! :D
> 
> Lots of Love,  
> FragileIzy<3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're here!!!! We're here!!!!!!! We've made it to the end!!!!!
> 
> I'm so sorry for leaving y'all hanging!!!!! I had to rewrite this chapter a billion jillion times because it just wasn't working for me. But we've made it!!!! Even though I'm late by almost a full week!!! I'm so sorry for leaving you waiting for this long!!!!!!
> 
> Also, I think this is the longest chapter I've ever written ever, maybe? It clocks in at 17.4k words! It's a tie between this one and the last chapter of my Sharks and Sugar fic which was also in the 17k range (but I don't remember how much it actually is, sooo).
> 
> Anyway, enough rambling, you've waited for this long enough!!!!
> 
> Enjoy!!!

She takes it back. Adrien is the most dangerous when he’s looking at her like this.

Like  _ this. _

How is it possible to have this man, the second-in-command of the entirety of demonkind, look at her like-- like  _ that? _

She knows the look-- she’s watched enough romance comedies by herself hiding under blankets and an icecream bowl tucked in her lap to recognize the smitten look actors place on themselves to indicate love and infatuation. But.

But but but.

They’re _fairy tales._ _Fantasies._ People don’t _really_ look at each other like this-- and they certainly don’t look at _her_ like this.

Can she let this happen? Will she be able to handle the heartbreak when he decides that he’s done dipping his toes in a fleeting sexcapade?

She doesn’t want to think about it. She chooses, instead, to live in the fantasy for a little while longer-- the scent of the three of them together, coating her sinuses, calming her body down from all fears and worries about the world. She’s safe here. Luka’s asleep and content. Her body is full, for the first time in hundreds of years. Adrien is smiling. Adrien is looking at her like  _ that. _

There’s a thick tendril of want that curls in her as he lays her down on her back on the rug. It’s better to not disturb Luka on the bed, and there are enough blankets and pillows on the floor to make the area comfortable enough. Truly, for Marinette, anything is better than that alleyway in Stockholm, and she would gladly pick a hardwood floor if she had to.

But she doesn’t have to anymore. This room is  _ hers. _ Filled to the brim with all of the softest blankets she could possibly hoard. Her entire life is in here. The closet, close to the entrance to the room, has all of the jewelry she’d managed to save before being kicked out of the Cradle, and even some more saved from past lovers. Earrings, charms, bracelets, anklets, the occasional bands she’d been able to buy with her measly money, or bartered for. This is her  _ place. _ This will always be hers. But.

She wants to share it.

She wants to share it with  _ them. _

She wants them to be impressed by the room. It took her forever to put enough magic into creating the bedframe. Each energy consumed she got from humans was one notch towards her goal of creating  _ her room. _ Not just any bedroom, but  _ hers.  _

A room where she could keep her jewelry stashed away safely in the closet, a room where she could go to and hide when the world was getting too loud and too grey and too big and too  _ lonely. _

She built this room, using only her magic and longing, and covered it with whites and pinks and blankets and pillows. Every spare bit of energy she could afford to lose from her body, she used to fabricate this room. She’ll never be able to part with it.

He kisses her, not quite showing the full length of his teeth, lavishing her body with his tongue. There’s something about the warmth and comforting weight of his tongue that makes her shiver and relax. The room is cold enough to where her skin pebbles on its own, but it doesn’t help when he wraps his lips on the soft tips at her breasts. 

She’s aching and tender from all the bites they’ve given her on the soft flesh, so she can’t help herself but give a soft cry as he worries her between his lips, nipping her just enough with his fangs for her to feel it all the way to her toes. She feels like she’s losing her mind from every relentless swipe of his tongue, lulling her into a state of drowsiness.

She’s full. Her body wants to process her food. She should make sure Luka’s okay by curling up close to him.

She’s happy. Her body wants more. She should make sure that Adrien’s taken care of by letting him use her the way he wants.

There’s that familiar heat pooling between her legs-- aching, fluttering empty and uselessly on nothing, and she’s mewling desperately behind her hand to have something calm her down. She’s so needy, now that she’s been made aware that there’s more than just a week of being filled to look forward to. 

Adrien wants to stay. 

Adrien said it out  _ loud. _

Hope brews in her chest as easy as guilt. 

Her body wants to feel better. She wants to be taken care of. She wants to be told sweet things-- small, little things-- everything and anything that’ll make her sure that this isn’t a dream, but she can’t find a way to say her wishes out loud. She’s afraid that it’ll break whatever illusion is surely coating at Adrien’s beautiful soul.

She wipes at her eyes with the back of her hands as he takes his time nipping at her ribs. There are bite marks there already-- not like it’s hard to find any, she’s littered with them-- and they ache and pinprick little tiny pains when he thumbs at them with a boyish smile.

He’s not exactly heavy as he places most of his weight on her, shifting his thighs underneath hers to get into a better position, but he’s a comforting weight-- grounding her from accidentally having her mind float away to how exquisite his shoulders and arms look as they glisten in sweat. Her palms against the firm muscle of his arms feel clammy and tacky as she holds him tenderly.

She loves him. Loves  _ them.  _ The thought is enough to knock the wind out of her.

She doesn’t want to lose him. Lose  _ them. _

But it’ll be a miracle if she can keep them, and she doesn’t even bother hoping for it.

He sears heat into her as she stretches to fit him, taking him in centimeter by centimeter, stitch by stitch. It’s a bit different for her now, her body feverish from how much energy there is to consume and process from Luka. Her legs are stained with it, down to the insides of her knees, and the scent will probably never wash off. Hopefully. 

She hopes to god and all the good in the world that she can at least have this one thing.

But she’ll take more. She wants more. She wants it to the point where she’s a trickling river with all of it.

She clasps her fingers with him, and fits him in between the hollow spaces of her knuckles. Her nails almost make him bleed from how tight she grips him, how painful she holds him. Her body is begging her to keep him here forever, to never let him go. 

If it’s as painful as it looks, Adrien doesn’t say anything, in favor of just shivering when her tail comes up to coil around the length of his arm, desperate to keep him from pulling his hand away from her.

He’s panting in her ear as he lets himself relax, to stop burning the air with overuse of his strength. The air is charged with his energy as he forces it back into him as if they’re giant displayed wings that he’s folding back into himself, officially stopping his campaign to prove her wrong. For now.

For  _ now. _ Later exists. The future exists. There’s more of this.

But she won’t hope.

Adrien’s too thick-headed to do anything else but to continue trying, and it upsets her how much she’s endeared by it, how she’s expecting that energy to come back in full force like a blooming flower.

It’s calm in the room when he’s finally able to sheath himself completely into her.

She sighs as her body tries its best to accommodate him. It’s not a difficult task, not  _ really, _ but she wants to do this right. Adrien isn’t necessarily long, not like Luka, but the girth of him is something that makes her walls burn at the thought  _ alone. _

He stretches her almost painfully slow while her walls flutter and pulse around him, warmth and slick and gold dust come attempting to help him fit better. It’s a snug fit-- too snug-- and she hides another breathless cry behind her hand, staying as quiet as possible to not disturb Luka. 

It’s a hard fit, all things considered. Luka may be a natural, but Adrien isn’t with any bad luck, either-- he’s always making sure that she notices him and his prodigy. And notice him, her body has. There’s no clean push of his hips to seat himself into her, but a slow drag instead. He bullies his way into her, her body twinging with a dull pain that feels like heaven.

Adrien’s pupils are swirling green as he looks at her. He all but folds her into herself, her thighs high on his hips as he bends down to pet at her cheek with his empty hand, wiping tears off her face. His hand is huge against her face, cradling her with such tenderness and adoration that a fresh wave of tears consumes her vision. “Marinette?”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m okay,” She nods, more to herself. 

Adrien almost looks confused. “Am I hurting you?”

“No.” Her laughter is watery and tight in her chest. “God, no. I feel great. You’re perfect.”

He raises a brow at her. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t cry like this when Luka did this.”

The laughter that peels out of her this time is more genuine, registering the slight jealousy in his voice. Poor Adrien. “Sorry, sorry. You’re not doing anything wrong-- it’s the succubi instincts. It’s making me emotional, and it’s making me want to keep you here.”

“Yeah, I-- I can tell. Your desires are going crazy.” He pets at her jaw, and shifts her higher onto his hips. Her eyes squeeze tight as her body zings with a new soreness, settling deep into her fluttering core. He winces a bit himself. “I can tell that you’re happy. But I can also tell that you’re upset about something, and you don’t want me to leave.”

“Oh.” She blinks slow up at him. Interesting, she’s never really thought that desires could actually give away intentions like that. “Uhm. What does it sound like?”

_ “‘I don’t want Adrien to leave. I don’t want Luka to leave. I want to hold Adrien’s hand.’” _ He smiles almost catlike, showing his teeth and fangs when her eyes widen down to her hand clasping his, and she blushes.  _ “‘I want Adrien to stop telling me my desires now. I wish I wasn’t so embarrassed by my feelings. I want Adrien not to feel weirded out by my succubi instincts.’” _

“You’re just going to keep talking just to make me cry harder.” She hides her face as well as she can with her remaining hand when he refuses her attempt to let his fingers go.

“Marinette, can you tell me what’s wrong first?”

“There’s nothing wrong.”

_ “‘I want Adrien to kiss me. I want to be told that I won’t be dropped the moment I’m not useful to Luka and Adrien, and I want them to actually mean it. I want them to love me.’” _ Adrien kisses at her jaw with a soft laugh. His lips are stained with gold, true, but there’s no taste to them when he presses them against hers. There’s barely even a spit bridge between them when he pulls away. “You’re lying to me, Princess.”

She blanches. “I’m so sorry. Jesus, I sound so needy. Is that what I actually sound like to all of you?”

He lifts her hand, the one not gripping him for dear life, and places it just below his collarbone on his chest. “It’s not exactly something demons hear. We  _ feel _ it here. Sometimes it makes it hard to breathe and think, when there’s too many wishes and wants in here. And right now, Princess, you are pinging desires to the point where I’m bursting.”

She smoothes her fingertips on his collarbone, her lips parting in silent wonder. She’s never heard of what it feels like to feel desires. No demon has given her the time of day to explain it to her, probably either under the assumption that she already knew, or because they just didn’t want to explain. Or maybe they didn’t want to tell her what she’s feeling, too weirded out by it. “I’m so sorry. Does it-- ah-- am I hurting you? I don’t know how to stop it, but, is there something I can do?”

“No, I don’t mind it from you. It’s easier to deal with pings from people that you care about. Sometimes the pain feels like when you’re dreaming that you’re drowning, and your chest tightens up, and it  _ feels _ like you can’t breathe, but it’s just a phantom pain.” He kisses the back of her hand when he peels her palm off of his chest. 

For Marinette, it hurts to breathe. People he cares about. “Oh. Are you? Are you feeling like you’re drowning right now?”

He shakes his head. “No. I was, earlier. The feeling sometimes gets super addictive, like pushing yourself to the extreme when working out but you keep going. But either way, you get good at distracting yourself from the fog when you’ve had enough practice dealing with wishes, and my weekend adventures of shoving humans into bathroom stalls have made it easier for me.”

She bites her lip. “I’m sorry. I’m really making this difficult.”

Adrien’s brows pinch. “You’re not being a burden, Marinette.”

Is that what she’s projecting?

“It’s been so long since I’ve eaten correctly,” She tries to reason, trying to ignore what he’s saying, propping herself up on her elbows. It drags Adrien’s arm forward, since she’s still refusing to let him go from their hand-holding, and he has to lean slightly forward some more. Her tail coils tighter against the length of his arm.

They’re close enough to press their foreheads together, if they want to. 

They both wince at the slight change in position, her core still feverish and slow to stop hurting from the girth of him. It’s strange-- he’s not  _ abnormally _ thick. Slightly to the right of normal, sure, but she didn’t expect him to have a human-sized anything. She’s had much worse-- and much bigger-- so she doesn’t understand why she’s struggling to keep herself still. Is her body desperate to keep him here as long as possible?

His eyes are swirling green, filled with emotions she can’t read or comprehend. “It’s okay to want things.”

She bites her lip. “I know.”

“It’s okay to want a relationship.”

Her face stains red. “I know.”

“It’s okay for you to want us to love you.”

Oh god. “I-- I know.”

“Then why are you hurting so bad, Princess?”

She spends a bit of time trying to find her reasoning, tossing about ten different arguments in her mouth. She settles on: “You two don’t like me enough to stay.”

“What?” He looks at her as if she’s spouting bullshit. “What are you talking about? Do you really think Luka is the kind of guy to fall helplessly in love and not pursue it?”

She thinks about Amphinome. How Luka had told her that he’d never been with a human that could potentially have a child, afterwards, too heartbroken about what had happened to ever try again. How he’d taken a chance anyway with Marinette, not knowing that Marinette couldn’t have children. “Well, you two aren’t in a relationship, not  _ really. _ And I know that Luka loves you. What does that tell me?”

“That’s not his fault.” Adrien goes sheepish. “That’s more of my own. Luka’s a good and kind demon, all things considered, and he’s tried a lot of times already to make our relationship official-- I’m really not good with my feelings. I’m not good at telling people I love them.”

Her face pinches. “So how do I know you’re telling me the truth, then?” 

His voice goes flat. “May I remind you that I showered in the tiniest bathroom I’ve ever seen, just for you.”

This guy.

“You mean for this.” She points to where they’re joined, quirking her lips in a smile. She can’t help but find his attempts at humor endearing, tight on her chest and burning.

He takes a long moment to look back up to her, too busy looking at how she’s stretched to the limit around him, the sides of his eyes crinkling as he smiles. “That’s not the only reason. It’s  _ a _ reason, but definitely not the only one.”

She laughs. “Yeah, okay.”

“I really do like you, Marinette.” His face struggles to not pinch and blush as he stammers. She blinks slow as she registers his words. “I care about you a lot, just like I care about Luka.”

Her eyes go wide. “Really? Are you-- are you telling the truth?”

Please don’t let her hope.

“This really is my fault, I think.” Adrien hums, sucking air through his teeth. “I shouldn’t have been so mean to you these past couple of years. Do you really think I hate you? I don’t hate-fuck people.”

“You may not hate me, but, you know.” She sighs, hiding her face in her empty hand when she can’t finish her sentence. “Sorry.  _ Sorry.  _ I promise I’m not usually like this. This is only the instincts talking, I promise.”

Marinette can’t believe her eyes, Adrien is actually  _ unimpressed. _ “Lying again, Princess?”

“I get really emotional when I’m fed.” Her argument is weak. It’s the truth-- she’s not technically lying, but. But but but.

“Marinette. We’re not going to leave you.” He manages to kiss her collarbones, her shoulders, the underside of her jaw. There’s no heat in his lips as he does it, and blessed be, there’s no heat curling the edges of her visions that filter through her head. In fact, there’s only one vision currently rattling in her head, and it’s exactly where she is now.

She can see it in third person, just like the other visions she’s ever gotten. Her hair is a pool of black in the midst of the white rug and blankets and pillows that cushion his knees and her back, that nest her in her spot. Her eyes are black in the vision-- the only thing different from real life. Her horns glittering faintly with gold dust somehow, and she wonders if they’re like that in real life. 

He’s looking at her with such fondness that it almost spills out of her mouth.

Adrien is…

Adrien is content where he is.

A fresh wave of tears builds up like a glassy film over her eyes. “A-are you-- s-sure?”

Please don’t give her hope just for nothing.

He pets at her cheeks as well as he can with one hand. “Of course I am. I’ll even make it into a promise, if you want. We’re going to be right here for the week, and then once you’re finally well fed and you’re not blaming any of your actual emotions on magic-induced anxiety--”

She can’t help but laugh. “‘Magic-induced anxiety?’ Is that what we’re calling it?”

“We’re going to talk about how scared you are to be alone, and how it won’t happen ever again.” He nods to himself when her eyes widen, barely able to focus her eyes with so many tears. “I want you to be honest with me when we talk about it. Can you do that?”

“But--”

“Princess.”

She winces. “S-scared?”

His voice goes flat again. “Marinette, don’t try to lie, I am legitimately able to feel it.”

She bites her lip. “How bad is it?”

He sighs, and lowers himself completely to tuck her under his chin. She wants to slap her tail against the floor in retaliation from how he makes her toes curl at the new angle, but she can’t will herself to pull away from his arm, so she ends up squirming it against his bicep. 

This close to his neck, she can smell the scent on him better. The scent that the three of them made together. Familiar. Warm. Comforting. Homely. Everything is okay. Everything is fine. They’re here, together. She doesn’t have to think about the future. She doesn’t have to be afraid.  _ “‘I don’t want Adrien to let go. I don’t want to let go of Adrien. I want to stay here forever, and rub my nose into Adrien’s neck from how nice he smells. I wish I didn’t feel like a burden to everyone in my life.’” _

She stays quiet, still chewing on her bottom lip, still letting tears freefall from her waterline. “I’m embarrassed. This is so backwards.”

“You’re not being a burden, Marinette.”

Her laughter surprises herself. “I wish we’d at least had this conversation when you weren’t balls deep in me.”

Adrien’s laughter is strong. “I’d rather you weren’t crying in general, but that’s okay. I know you’re being more emotional because of the instincts, and I can tell that you’re not lying about it. But I don’t feel comfortable fucking you when your desires are so strong if I can help you calm down first.”

“I’m sorry.”

If he finds her nuzzling against his chin weird, he doesn’t say anything, opting to rub his hand down her side comfortingly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Promise?” His fang pokes out the side of his smile when she pulls away slightly so she can look at him.

“I promise.” She nods her head.

“It’s dangerous to promise lies to demons, I hope you know,” He chuckles. “You know that broken contracts are a serious thing.”

Sufficiently convinced that she’s telling the truth, Adrien shifts back, moving his available arm to her leg at his hip. He folds it closer, pulling the back of her knee to rest over his shoulder as he leans over her, and he sighs low when he starts to move.

No longer fueling himself with extra amount of energy, Adrien is far more susceptible to shivers that wrack his body as he snaps his hips. The sound of their skin is music to her ears, causing gold-dust slick dribble and pour out of her with ease.

She already knows how smooth his muscles are under the golden skin of his-- she made sure to watch with the intensity of a thousand suns when she’d first seen him, so she could remember it for ages and ages into the future when he most likely is the new king of hell, when this is nothing but a distant memory, when there is nothing of this relationship between the three of them left-- so she can afford to keep her eyes closed, and she lets the blue in her eyes disappear in favor of her blackened pupilless eyes as her eyelashes flutter.

She keeps her sighs low and soft as he grinds against her, soreness and feverish skin pulsing in a vicious want. Her feet twitch with every firm slap of their skin, her body shivering as he moves his hand against her sensitive skin.

It’s important to her that he takes his time. It would be nice if he drags out their fucking for as long as possible, not using any of his energy of any kind, but she knows better than to expect the impossible. She knows he’s close, even considering that he’s had at least ten minutes of reprieve-- but it’s easy for demons to go from zero to one hundred without much help, and she’s preyed on that before. 

Demons are always so good to her.

Adrien’s been bordering the edge for hours now, so it doesn’t surprise her that he won’t last than a couple more minutes. Luckily, her body is more than okay with it-- all of her instincts are driving her to help him finish, completely settled with not finishing herself. She wants to ease the tension in his shoulders, and smooth his bangs back from all the sweat.

Her back arches enough for him to wrap a strong forearm underneath her, to get a grip on her so that he doesn’t accidentally slide out.

“You’re--  _ ah-- _ so beautiful, Marinette.” He grins when she opens her eyes, his fangs on full display. His eyes are beautiful stars of color. “I love it when you--  _ fuck-- _ show your actual eyes.”

She can’t help but smile. “You and Luka really like it, apparently.”

“It’s insanely beautiful.  _ You’re _ insanely beautiful.” She blushes under him when he kisses her, letting her loop her tongue around his. She sighs softly into his mouth, and whines when he pricks her bottom lip with his teeth. His eyes widen down at her when he pulls away. “Ah--  _ ah-- _ there we go. That’s more like it.”

“What do you--” Marinette gasps, bringing her fingertips to her mouth to poke at the ends of her fangs, surprised that they’re at their full length. She can’t do much-- it’s impossible to communicate correctly with how long they are, so all she can offer is a simple: “Oh.”

“I’ve been wondering if I’d--  _ ah-- _ ever get to see them again.”

She can’t tell him that all he had to do was ask, but she’s physically not able to move her jaw unless she wants to cut her lip open on her fangs. So she smiles instead, resting the tips of her fangs against the flat part of her tongue, sighing and mewling as he fucks her with just the amount of desperation to make her toes curl.

She lets her empty hand grasp at the prophetic string when his hips stutter. It settles nice, and so neatly onto her fingers that is almost feels natural to hold his orgasm there. He’s perfect for her.

_ There you go. Take it nice and slow, my sweet little kitty-cat. Come for me. _

But this time, she pulls. Her body  _ sings. _

* * *

Marinette is looking at herself in the mirror when Luka wakes up. She’s on the floor, her legs curled underneath her, her black spade twitching and thumping lightly against the floor as she hums to herself a tune that he doesn’t recognize. 

_ I wish I was always this happy. _

She’s close enough to the mirror that she’s almost pressed up against it, admiring something in her reflection that he can’t see, as she riffles through a small little storage box next to her feet. 

Luka wipes at his eyes to get rid of the confusion that burns in him.

When had he fallen asleep? He can’t even remember the last thing that happened last night. He remembers showering in her bathroom, using nicely scented soap that felt like true butter on his skin, toweling himself off with a warm towel she’d given him from her dryer, walking into the kitchen and he remembers how Marinette’s head had tilted to reach her shoulder as Adrien held her from behind and had her come from grinding on a leg  _ alone _ and then... 

It feels like it’s late afternoon. Has a whole night gone by already? He can remember bits and pieces of it like a dream-- he can remember how nice and sweet and soft and pliable Marinette’s body was underneath his. He remembers Adrien’s back littered with his bites, too, as he kept his grip on his hips nearly forceful enough to break bone. He remembers Adrien’s eyes burning with color and energy, and he remembers being bit on his arm for some reason. 

But he has no way of telling what time it is.

He’s not sure  _ what _ time it is-- he has no way to guide himself. There are no windows in this room, given that it’s completely made out of magic, and the only light in the room comes from the heavy floor lamp at the far corner of the room. His biological clock puts him around sunset, but his head is so thick with thoughts and heavy sleep that he’s not sure he can believe it.

_ I wish I remember to take the laundry out in time before it gets wrinkly. _

He can smell food somewhere in the room, though not much else, and he frowns to himself. Shouldn’t he be smelling sweat? Sex? Come?

He now knows what she smells like, and Luka would be lying if he said he didn’t like it. It’s an intoxicating scent, made specifically to be as appealing as possible, so he obviously understands the addictive appeal of it. It’s hard for him to pinpoint what exactly she smells like-- stars, galaxies, fresh water after a workout-- but he knows it fills the empty cavities of his soul well.

It’ll take days to get it out of his sinuses from how she’s coated everything about him with sweet nectar and balm. He remembers clearly that the moment he’d gotten a taste of her come, his entire world had brightened, and everything felt wonderful and easy. Even without it, he feels soothed by just being in her presence, no doubt a reason why she used to be such a good Cradler back in the day. 

But there’s nothing but plainness in the air outside of the smell of food, aside from the same soft smell that permeated the room when they’d first come in. He finds himself almost missing her scent of sex and come. Adrien’s, too-- even though it definitely isn’t as sweet. Not even the blankets around him, where he knows for a  _ fact _ are stained with gold dust, are void of any salaciousness he’s come to associate the room with.

_ I wish I could wake one of them up to keep me company. _

“Oh!” Marinette turns when she makes eye contact with him with her reflection. Her eyes are blue and shiny, but he’s sad to see the black eyes go. 

She stands with a healthy smile, stretching out her legs. She’s still as naked as last night, a  _ beautiful _ form with curves and soft dips and toned thighs. He watches with simmering interest how the wiry muscles in her body move and shift under her pale skin as she uncurls her legs from underneath her with a soft little gasp, and he has to force himself not to laugh at himself. 

Even while tired and sore, his body still wants to feel that addicting emotion of giving up everything for her. It’s hard to quit such a beautiful creature like Marinette, with her inky black hair and dazzling eyes and sensual smile.

No wonder succubi are so dangerous.

She sits next to him on the bed, and the mattress barely dips from her weight, completely unaware of the confusion brewing in his chest as he continues to smell the stale air. “Good morning, my sweet.”

He’s wrong. Marinette isn’t entirely naked.

It’s hard for him to focus his eyes correctly, his head still pounding, but up close he can see thin white bands on her arms. They must be gold of some kind, given that Marinette has so much of it already in her apartment. 

They bracket her upper arms, and shine a bit in the low light. They’re plain, and simple, and not at all the opulent jewels he knows that succubi wear. He wonders not for the first time since coming to her apartment why the jewelry is missing from her skin.

He knows that she  _ has _ them. Her apartment walls are plastered with necklaces, broaches, and hairpieces either sticky-tacked to the walls, or hung as delicately as possible on hooks, with each hair comb more antique than the last. But she herself is completely bare to all of it, save her choker that’s been pushed aside and currently missing on her skin. He’s never seen Marinette wear anything else except that choker, and he wonders why.

_ “Is _ it morning?” His voice feels too gross in his chest.

_ I want to kiss Luka. _

“It’s not.” Luka can’t keep himself from shuddering as she pushes his bangs out of his eyes, humor curling at her lips. “It’s seven at night. But still. We can pretend that it’s morning.”

Luka’s mouth betrays him into a smile as she continues to pet him. “Where’s Adrien?”

She looks over his shoulder and points. He can’t turn all the way around just yet, his mind still foggy and body still lagging behind his brain. But he sees Adrien’s long body tucked under the same blanket as him, with an escapee arm that’s propped up against his torso. Adrien’s ring shines on his finger, confirming that it is indeed the demon prince behind him, in case he couldn’t tell by the healing bites on his skin alone.

Adrien isn’t as strong as Luka, appearance-wise. There’s beautiful muscle definition on golden skin, but Adrien’s muscle mass is slightly smaller, even though at the end of the day it means nothing for how strong Adrien actually is. He knows the demon prince is stronger than most because of his-- for lack of a better term-- ‘pedigree’. Or whatever Marinette calls it.

Even still, the sight of a thick golden arm almost spooning Luka’s hip is enough to make him surprised. Luka smiles, grateful that Adrien was finally able to calm down, one eyebrow raising at the sight. “How long has he been asleep?”

_ I want Adrien to wake up. _

“It’s been twelve hours, I think.” She chews on her lip, thinking it over. “He should be waking up soon, I hope. Unless I took too much out of him. He caved when you were asleep.”

“It’s a shame I missed it.” Luka’s slow to respond, losing his train of thought with the way that she tucks his hair behind his ear. It makes him shiver from how delicate her hands are, how nimble and soft she is.

“We still have six more days left, you’ll be able to see it again.” Her smile is satiny smooth, happy, and comforting. Is this what Marinette is like when she’s not hungry? It’s adorable. “How are you feeling? Hungry?”

_ I want to feed Luka well so he has enough strength to continue for the night. _

He might as well be truthful with her. “Hungover. I feel like I’m hungover.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh-- oh my god. That’s all my fault.”

“You mean because you fed off of me? Nah, it’s not your fault. It’s more of Adrien’s, if anything.” He tries to appease her as she grabs for his arm and lifts, checking at his ribs for something. Her fingertips are ticklish against his side, and if it wasn’t for the concentrated look on her face, he’d be under the impression that she was simply just feeling at his tattoo. “Little mouse?”

She pricks him with her tail just below the last rib. Pain instantly seeps out of him, like he’s finally managed to breathe after holding his breath for too long, and he sags slightly against her in relief. 

Oh.

Oh, thank god. His head was starting to split open.

She hums, scratching lightly at his back with her nails in soft little loops as she comforts him. She kisses one of his shoulders closest to her. “Oh, Luka, I’m so  _ stupid. _ You get insane amounts of headaches if you taste me but don’t do anything, and I didn’t even realize. You’ve been asleep for, what, fifteen hours?”

He wipes at his eyes when she pulls away, and the world slowly returns to normal around him. The light in the room seems to be aggravating him less at every second, which is an extremely good sign. “Hey, it’s okay. No harm done. I’ll remember it for next time, in case it happens again.”

“I’m glad you told me.” She smiles regardless, blue eyes shiny and healthy when she looks up at him. His heart zings at the sight of her fangs. They’re not her normal baby fangs-- they’re slightly longer, with almost a demon-like length to them. “I would’ve hated you staying in pain just because you thought it was normal.”

_ I wish I had known! _

“I’m not a fan of hangovers.” He chuckles.

She plays with a lock of his hair, twirling blue strands between red fingernails. “I’m well aware. I’ve never gotten to see you drunk before.”

“Force of habit,” He muses. He kisses her wrist when her hand is close enough, and he loves the way her body stains pink with a blush. How adorable. “I don’t enjoy alcohol that isn’t vodka, and even then-- I don’t like it enough to get drunk.”

_ I wish I could kiss Luka. _

“You’re a lot stronger than me.” She leans into her shoulder, looking up at him through her lashes. “Only god knows just how inevitable it is for me to like alcohol.”

“Oh, I know. You’re partially the reason why the club always has so much money.”

“Stop serving so many good drinks!” Her tail drags against the rug on the floor when she pouts good-humoredly. “You’re amazing at what you do, it’s not my fault.”

The both pause to listen to Adrien snore.

“Maybe we should let him sleep.” Luka starts looking for the edge of the blanket so he can get out of bed, but she ends up lifting the blanket higher on his hips instead.

She laughs quietly, kissing the edge of his shoulder again and continuing to smooth his hair back. He tries not to show his confusion. “Stay right here, it’s breakfast in bed for today. You’re  _ probably _ feeling good enough to start walking around, if you really want to, but I suggest staying in bed for a little while longer. I took way too much out of you last night, but luckily nothing bad happened. You’re looking so much better now.”

In any other circumstance, he’d love to stay in bed. But he knows just how grumpy Adrien gets when he’s woken up. “What about Adrien? Won’t we wake him up?”

“He’s been sleeping like the dead.” Marinette shrugs, reaching for Adrien’s free hand to rub little circles on his skin with the pad of her thumb. Adrien doesn’t even stir, face still tucked into the pillow, and she raises her brows as if her point’s been proven. “You’ve moved a bunch of times in your sleep throughout the day, but Adrien has yet to move from his spot he fell asleep in last night. He might even be dead, I think. Good on me for killing the second in command of all demonkind.”

Luka stretches his shoulders, his face pinching slightly from the soreness. No doubt that the sex from the night before had been a workout, but he’d assumed that his body wouldn’t be complaining about it. He wouldn’t consider himself to be extremely flexible-- definitely not as flexible as Marinette-- but he’d assumed he wouldn’t be feeling so many kinks in his shoulders. “Dead people don’t snore.”

“Maybe it’s something that only royalty do.” Her eyes twinkle with mischief and humor, tracking the slow movement of his arms as he continues to stretch. Interesting.

He follows the curve of her tail back up to the tailbone when she gets up to bring a tray of food over to him. She steps neatly over the small little box near the mirror, the one she’d been using before him waking up, restarting the humming under her breath. He struggles to place the song. “How bad did I look during the night?”

“You were a little pale.” Her lips are so expressive and pink. “Well, too much white for my liking, but it was interesting to watch the color come back to your face. Do you like mayonnaise?”

“I do.” He thanks her when she places a tray at his lap full of food. There are three sandwiches packed with butcher meat and lettuce-- whole wheat, he notices with a small smile on his face-- a small bowl of fruit, and a short glass of orange juice all arranged pleasantly on the sturdy plastic tray, and his face slightly pinches when he tries to remember when she had the time to make the sandwiches. “How long did it take for me to get better?”

“About around the sixth hour you were asleep, if I remember correctly.” Something dings in the hallway, and the only indication he gets that she heard it is the slow drag of her tail against the rug, the spade curling slightly.

He stalls to take a bite of the food, looking at her quizzically, hovering a sandwich centimeters away from his mouth. “You’ve been awake for that long?”

“I haven’t slept at all.” She tucks her knees under her chin as she sits down on the mattress with him, a little ways away from his feet so she can sit correctly and still face him, her tail hanging uselessly off the edge of bed. She thumps it against the side of the bedframe as she watches him eat with approving eyes. “I don’t usually sleep on the first night when I feed.”

His eyes widen. She’s gone more than twenty-four hours without sleeping, surely. “Marinette, that’s not good at all. Is that normal? Will you not sleep for the entire week?”

Her entire face crinkles so softly as she smiles. “Oh, yeah, of course I will. I’ll definitely sleep at some point, I kind of need to. I just want to make sure that the both of you don’t have any reactions to losing so much energy at once.”

It still doesn’t make him feel good, knowing that Marinette’s been probably digging holes into the carpet from pacing and frantic over the two of them as they slept. He’d rather her sleep than keep an eye on him. “What have you been doing this entire time?”

“I’ve been keeping myself busy by checking in on you two for the entire day.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I cleaned you two off the best I could with a couple of spells, I hope that’s okay. I don’t really like messing with people when they’re asleep, or using any magic on them unless I know I have to, and I knew that you wouldn’t be able to handle the smell when you woke up.”

“I don’t mind it.”

It’s nearly impossible to see her as the seductress in her current state, even if she’s completely naked save for the bands at the arms. He finds it fascinating how even though she is technically dressed the most sexually he’s ever seen her, it doesn’t look sexual at all. Instead of it being considered  _ sexy _ or  _ hot _ or whatever word Adrien surely would come up for it, Marinette just looks... comfortable in her own skin. 

Her red lipstick from the night before is gone, along with any mascara on her eyes. She’s fresh-faced-- black bangs soft against her forehead and hair even softer down her shoulders, her normally red lips replaced with just a simple shine of a lip balm-- and it makes her look much younger. 

She looks so  _ jovial, _ eyes bright and clear. Even with the addition of the tail and horns and fangs, she still looks like a young human woman comfortably at the age of late twenties, not thousands of years old. Someone he could definitely find at a laundromat, not at the bowels of hell. He finds that he likes the look on her-- he  _ likes _ the way she’s comfortable and soft.

He wonders if it’s because of all the feeding she’s been doing. If he’s the reason why she looks so happy. Well, Adrien’s along with it too. But the idea that Marinette’s looking so much younger from only a night of feeding makes him feel tremendously happy.

_ I want to experience this every day for the rest of my life. _

He isn’t sure who’s desire that is.

She purses her lips into a pretty pout as she watches him eat. “I washed your clothes already, that was the washing machine dinging. That was the easiest thing I’ve done all day. It took me a little bit of time to clean you both up because Adrien is surprisingly magic resistant. I’m guessing it’s the ring on his hand that’s making him repellent somehow, I don’t know. But you were easy to clean up.”

He sniffs to prove his point, as if he needs to. “Is that why I don’t smell anything?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes drop to the blankets. She draws little loops into the fabric with a painted fingernail. “I love the scent, but I know it would’ve been bothersome for you two. Demon kind and their sensitivities.”

“I wouldn’t have complained.” Luka’s almost done with his sandwiches without even realizing it. He must’ve been a lot hungrier than he’d anticipated. They’re extremely tasty regardless. “I don’t know about Adrien, but, I think it smells nice.”

“Really? You do?” Her eyes widen up at him when he nods. “Cause, well, if that’s the case, I definitely won’t wash it off tomorrow.”

_ I wish I hadn’t washed it off! I wish I could roll in the scent forever. I wish the scent calmed them down as much as it calms me down whenever I smell it. _

“I’ll look forward to it.” He’s all teeth when he smiles at her. “But definitely ask Adrien first.”

“Will do.” Her gaze drifts back to Adrien’s arm still out of the blanket, a small smile filtering onto her face as she picks it up again and places it on her lap to pet at. Her spade curls with an audible noise against the rug on the floor, and Luka can’t help but watch her nails swirl little circles onto golden tan skin as she hums.

She’s a soft little thing, content and sweet as she grazes the tan skin with her nails. It’s relaxing to watch, those small dexterous fingers pressing lightly against chiseled muscle. If Luka wasn’t so fed up with sleeping, he’s certain that he would’ve fallen asleep from watching her coddle and care for them. 

He’s a curious demon. “What are you singing?”

“Oh. It’s a lullaby that I used to sing.” She glances down to the bands at her arms with a sheepish smile, coating her baby blue eyes with long eyelashes. “It resurfaced in my head when I took out my jewelry box earlier in the day, and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”

“It’s very pretty.”

“Do you know it?”

“I don’t,” He’s quick to smile anyway, his tastebuds exploding in flavor as he eats the fruit from the bowl. He feeds her a banana slice, eager to get a better look at her showing fangs. So pretty. “I wouldn’t mind you teaching it to me, though. It sounds lovely. You have a beautiful singing voice, little mouse.”

_ I wish Luka complimented me like that more often. _

She blushes. “I used to sing it to my Cradle mates a lot. Nathaniel had a lot of problems falling asleep when we were younger. He probably remembers the song entirely, if I asked him about it.”

“Looks like Nathaniel isn’t the only succubus that has problems sleeping.” Her fingers swirling against Adrien’s arm is making Luka’s mind fog with relaxation.

She keeps her voice slightly low, mindful to not wake up the sleeping demon. “True! But succubi in general don’t sleep very well, so there would be periods of times where there would be a couple of them awake at a time. I tried my best to haul them to bed by singing.”

He chuckles. “You’d lure them to bed like a siren?”

“Anything to get them to sleep,” she laughs a twinkling noise, “sometimes I had to get creative.”

“What else would you do?” He drinks his cup of juice through.

She thumbs at the band on her arm, a wistful smile on her face. “Tell stories, read to them, help them settle into bed. It sounds like I’m talking about children, doesn’t it?”

His smile curls. “A little bit.”

She giggles behind a hand, wiggling her toes onto the blanket. “It wasn’t like that, though. I wasn’t the only one who would sing or tell stories to entertain, but I certainly did. At the end of the day, our whole purpose is to entertain and socialize, so it wasn’t as if it was a struggle for us. Sometimes when it got real bad, we’d give up on sleeping entirely and just make food for the Cradle. We would bake so much bread that the brothel would be sweltering hot.”

_ I wish I could experience it again. _

He recognizes the sadness in her voice. He doesn’t even need to hear her desires to recognize that slow inhale as someone who’s been torn away from family.

“Can I ask you about something about succubi?” He looks back to the bands at her arms when she nods curiously, taking her out of her thoughts. “I may be wrong about something. Where are your jewels?”

“My jewels?” She cocks her head, eyes teasing with humor.

“When I used to work at the ports in hell, there used to be lots of succubi in the area, like I’ve told you.” The memories still haunt him from how ethereal-like the shining red skin with golden accents made the dark hellish night brighter and warmer. Even catching a glimpse of one or two succubi who willingly walked through the streets, showing their antlers and horns and stacks of jewelry on their body was enough to make Luka to be content with the grueling work he’d be put through for days and weeks on end. “I remember seeing them covered in gold.”

Marinette’s smile turns small and shy. “Oh. Really?”

“Is that something that all succubi do? Dress in bijou?”

“Well, it depends on the person. But essentially the answer is yes.”

She takes the tray off his lap when she registers that he’s done eating everything off the plate. She takes her time getting up again, tail curling against her leg as she places the tray back where she’d gotten it in the first place. Instead of coming back empty-handed, she picks up the storage box in front of the mirror in her hands. It’s the size of a shoebox.

She deposits herself on his lap, facing her feet towards Adrien, curling herself into his arms when he sits back to enjoy her warmth. He can’t help but shiver when the tips of her horns rub against the bottom of his jaw, her tail wrapping against his arm.

It always surprises him just how small she is. He’s been in her for hours now-- he knows that he  _ can _ fit, and he  _ won’t _ break her in half even if he stopped being wary about his size, but it’s hard to think positive about their differences when she can fold herself so easily into the space between his thigh up to his chin. 

Is she really just this small, or is he just massive? Are both him and Adrien the outlier here? Or is Marinette just truly this small and delicate?

And the horns don’t really count, not  _ really.  _ If he teeths on the hardened flesh like he’s been wanting to do, he likes that he doesn’t have to bend his head to reach them.

She’s soft and malleable between his arms as he shifts his legs to sit in a better position to have her more comfortable, her healing skin warm against his palms as he lets her nuzzle into his shoulder. Her hair tickles his naked skin, creating goosebumps, and he’s grateful for the blanket that covers his legs from the cold.

_ I wish I could stay in Luka’s arms forever. _

“One of the ways Cradle mates show affection to one another is by dressing each other.” She opens the wooden box on her lap. 

Stacks of bracelets, anklets, and little slivers of rings and earrings all rattle quietly in the box, each individual piece more silverish than the last. There are even corollas, and diadems-- jewelry items that he personally hasn’t seen worn in thousands of years-- perfectly preserved and delicately stored within the box.

He spots a few circlets inside, as well-- just barely snug within the container of the box. They’re decorated with ornamental birds, but mostly they’re completely plain and simple. There’s nothing opulent about them, nothing that screams indulgence.

Even though the simpleness doesn’t  _ really  _ match her-- Marinette has never shown him to be conservative in any regard of the word-- the way she holds the box tenderly on her lap makes him wonder what the history of the pieces are.

It’s strange, though. None of the items in the box actually smell like silver. They smell like they’re brimming with magic, and it stains the roof of his mouth with that candy-like balm that he’s come to associate Marinette with. He can’t stop looking at the items in the box, and how they catch appeasingly in the low lamplight. All he can offer is a simple: “Oh.”

Marinette struggles to form a sentence as his fingers draw loops on her calves the way she’d done to him when he’d first woken up, and done to Adrien’s arm. “The succubi that you saw when you worked were very lucky to have one another. It’s not common for a succubus to dress in jewelry unless someone does it for them.”

“You can’t do it on your own?”

“We just don’t want to. I mean, obviously some  _ do, _ but it’s the culture of it.” Her feet dig underneath Adrien’s arm for warmth. He doesn’t even move. She hums as she tries to figure out how to explain. “For a succubus, you’re only as beautiful and as enticing as your Cradle mates make you. It’s because of them that you look so healthy and clean.”

“You would bathe each other, too?”

“Sometimes. We’re social creatures that need constant contact with others in order to survive, or we--” she falters, lifting a thin finger up to her horns and then down to her pale skin, “well. You know. Or  _ this _ happens.”

_ I wish I had a home. I wish I could get reassured that this is my home now, like what Adrien had done. I wish I could let the hope in my heart to be real. _

He frowns, wondering what Adrien had said. “So it’s not the jewels themselves, but just the dressing up part.”

She sighs into his shoulder. “It’s a bit of both. Everyone looks good in gold, even if they’re convinced they don’t. Dressing up a Cradle mate is just like caring and grooming someone you love. You feel safe, knowing that someone who loved you took precious time out of their day to dress you, and that there will be someone to help you undress later.”

_ I wish someone who loved me would dress me in my jewelry. I wish I could remember the last time someone did. _

The contract settles nicely into his chest.

Luka takes it upon himself to pick out a bracelet from the box. It’s silver, just like everything else inside the box, and Marinette is completely silent when he looks at it. It’s a thin band, only a few millimeters in width, but too large for her arm. He could probably put his complete fist through without even touching the border. “Where does this one go?”

“That one is for my horns.” She’s gentle when she uses them to scratch at his jaw again, and he’s thankful for how dull they are so that they don’t make him bleed. “Back when they were bigger I used to wear them all the time.”

He looks down at the metal band resting on his palm. They must’ve been huge, at some point. He wonders if she has any portraits of it. He’d love to see them.

He places the band back into the box, looking for something smaller. He knows that she’s still self-conscious about them-- it’s going to take her a  _ long _ time for her to be truly comfortable with the length of her horns and how they look, even as they heal. He wants to make her feel better about them, knowing that she’d be happier and less afraid with jewelry on her skin.

He picks out a slightly smaller band. “Is this one for your antlers, too?”

She nods. “I have a couple of different sized ones so that they can stay on different parts of my horn.”

“Can I?”

Her eyes widen when she recognizes what he’s asking. Immediately, she blushes down to her shoulders, staining her freckles and making them almost invisible on her pale skin. It’s  _ adorable. _ “Oh.  _ Oh.” _

His smile curls with no heat. “Little mouse?”

“Yes-- I-- please.” Her eyes are as large as dinner plates. “I never-- you-- oh my  _ god.” _

He chuckles. “You stammer when you’re embarrassed?”

“Cut me s-some slack,” She worries her bottom lip in between her teeth, hiding her steaming cheeks with her hands. “I just got told that you-- you l-love me, in that weird little demon way. That’s something to get emotional about.”

“I can do you one better,” Luka offers, “I do, in fact, love you.”

_ I want Luka to say that every single day for the rest of my life. I want to be this happy always. _

She hides her face entirely in between her hands instead of answering. Her tail can’t stop thumping the side of the bed frame, and he takes it upon himself to laugh and kiss her temple.

He’s addicted to the honey-coating taste of a completed contract with her. The sandwiches are good and nice and filling for his body, but it’s only ever a contract that helps soothe the little cracks in his soul. He wants more. He wants  _ more. _

He’s gentle when he guides his hand over to below his chin. He makes sure to take his time when doing it, giving Marinette enough time to recognize what he’s doing and pull away if she’s suddenly not interested, but instead her eyes flutter shut when the band slides down the slight curve of her horns. It fits snuggly down to the base of her pretty antler, almost immediately conforming to the shape.

“You are surprising me just more and more. You have magic?”

“Hm?”

“The bands don’t shrink unless the person who’s putting it on my skin knows how to use magic.” She blinks up at him with wonder. She’s close enough for him to count her freckles, if he’s interested in doing so. “You know how to use magic?”

“Oh,” It’s his turn to blush. “I don’t know it as much as you do, obviously. But I know a bit of it. Probably not enough to actually do anything with, anymore. It’s been so long since I’ve learned it.”

He picked up anything people were willing to teach him, back when he lived in hell and had nothing to his name. Who knew what spare trick or trade he’d learned could help him survive in that desolate, starless night? 

Anything could’ve been the definitive factor between life and death down there. Hell is not kind to those with nothing, and Luka still has some leftover mental scars from the experiences he’s had at the docks.

Learning magic had just been something he’d learned when waiting for new shipments in the ports. He could barely make a spark between his fingers-- his magic came nowhere near close to the beautiful colors that explode and seep out of Marinette’s very being and soul. It would take him an entire lifetime to build a magic room like the one they’re in now. But he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t know something of it.

He can’t stop himself from adding more to her skin.

He adds more bands to her horns, each with varying widths and sizes that shine softly in the low light. They fit perfectly against her horns, and he’s not certain if it’s because of his own magic, or because he’s just picking the right sizes.

He wishes he could put the beaded chains on her horns like he remembers seeing on succubi. He remembers the gold chains that wrapped snugly around a horn and hung down like a beaded curtain at the back of their heads. But as he searches for something similar in the box, he’s surprised to find nothing even remotely close to it. Interesting.

Next, come two bracelets that are similar to the bands at tops of her arms, and he swears that they make an audible clicking noise against her skin when they come to rest just above the wrist bone, hiding the row of hickeys he’d put there on her skin the night before.

Anklets, too-- when Marinette can hype herself up enough to lose the warmth of Adrien’s arm on the tops of her feet, he slips on two bands on each of her ankles. She’s a delicate little creature, making him all the more aware of just how different their sizes are. Even her ankles are small and look too easy to crush between a well-placed fist, and he’s concerned-- even though he knows with his own personal experience that Marinette can handle all of him. Literally and figuratively.

_ I wish I never have to take these off ever again. _

She’s perfect, and the way the completed contract tastes heavenly sweet in his mouth makes him crave more. He wants to make her happy for the rest of his life.

He thumbs at the smooth metal, letting her desires ping and burst in his chest. It is supernova starlight in his empty vessel of fog, since it is only the two of them-- and while Adrien’s dreams carry whispers and hints of wants and desires, they are scattered little dots that are barely visible in the fog to the untrained demon. 

He can only sense them because he’s familiar with Adrien’s desires and how they feel in his chest, but they’re watered down compared to the real things. “You’re always so beautiful, Marinette, but I think you look much better when you’re happy.”

“You two make me so happy.” She almost turns shy, the cute little thing. He can’t stop himself from nuzzling at her hairline as she sighs. “And, yes, that  _ includes _ Adrien, even if the grumpy cat doesn’t want me admitting my feelings to him.”

“I don’t doubt you, I’ve tried for years now to get him to admit his feelings.” He chuckles into her ear. She almost buzzes from shivers. “How’d you handle him last night?”

“I haven’t been able to sleep ever since I ate from him.” She wiggles her tail against his arm as if she’s proving her point. “I’m on the equivalent of a few energy drinks. Something equivalent to caffeine.”

He brushes her hair off her shoulder so he can trace her freckles with his fingers. “Is that going to be a constant thing?”

“Feeding?” Oh, but she knows what he’s referring to.

He nips at her ear in retaliation for her cheekiness. “Your inability to sleep.”

She’s a breath of fresh air when she laughs. “No, probably not. I’m probably just too awake because of overconsumption.”

“Does that mean that you’re going to take it easy on the two of us today?”

“If you’re nice enough.” There’s a particular shine in her eyes as she looks at him that makes a familiar feeling brew at the base of his spine. Her winking shouldn’t make him twitch as much as he does. “You two are such good pets, after all. I would hate to exhaust you so quickly.”

He nips at her again. “Tell me more about the jewelry on you.”

She squirms. “What do you want to know?”

“How come they aren’t gold? I know it’s a preference for succubi.”

“They turn gold when I show my true skin color and eyes,” She shivers as his thumb trails up her calf. Ever a responsive little succubus. How intoxicating. “It’s--  _ ah-- _ magic that most succubi know how to do. But it’s--  _ uhm-- _ more casual to have them in silver when we’re in our more acceptable forms, which is why they’re not gold right now.”

“Why do you hide your eyes from us? And your skin color?” He circles his thumb at her knee, eliciting a small thump of her spade against the bedframe. “They’re beautiful.”

She blushes hard enough to stain red. “It r-really doesn’t freak you out at all, does it?”

“Don’t misunderstand me, I don’t mind seeing your blue eyes.” He’s easy to appease her, and she shifts her head just a smidge in order for him to press his lips against hers. 

If it wasn’t apparent enough before, it is now-- Marinette  _ preens _ in his arms, stretching out her back and creating a wonderful little line against his palm. How wonderful. 

He pulls back enough to lick his lips, and she can’t stop tracking his forked tongue. “But I like being able to see you in your real form. You’re a beautiful creature, little mouse. I hope you aren’t shy about yourself.”

She sighs softly at his trailing hand. “I’ll admit, the white skin scared me too when I saw myself yesterday.”

“How long had you gone without looking at your true form?”

“Years.” She mouths at his shoulder closest to her when he skims his fingertips across the top of her thighs. “I haven’t eaten in so long, I was scared to see just how bad the damage was getting.”

That settles it. “Show me your eyes, Marinette.”

She blinks the blue out of her irises, her pupils disappearing entirely in favor of letting her sclera turn black. Her eyelashes all but disappear into the void when she blinks, blackness ever-present and helping Luka’s body stir in want. 

The jewelry on her skin goes through a transformation. Instantly-- legitimately with a blink of an eye-- the silver color is replaced with liquid gold. That’s  _ much _ more like it-- much more representative of the succubi Luka remembers seeing. The bands glitter on her skin and horns in the same way that the shine of her come does, and the beauty of it is so jaw-dropping that Luka has to give himself a second or two in order to think properly.

She smiles. “Better?”

“There you are. What a beautiful sight.” He tries taking it all in without letting his body react too heavy to it, but it’s helpless to stop his cock from hardening and such a wonderful sight.

_ I wish I could come just like this. _

Good.

“Are you full still?” He nips at the collum of paperwhite skin of her neck when she offers it to him, nosing the area and inhaling the sweet scent of her skin. Marinette. Sweet, sweet Marinette.

She shudders. “Not for today, no. My body is so desperate for more, Luka. It’s a mess of wanting more to eat and wanting to expel some out of me. It’s really debilitating-- but trust me, I can wait a couple of hours longer if you’re still tired.”

“I’m sure it comes to no surprise to you when I say that I can’t stay still. I’ve wanted to put my dick back inside you the moment I woke up.” He chuckles as her tail thwacks against the floor at his words. She parts her legs so easily for him when he fits in fingers in between the soft space of her thighs, and his brows raise at the moisture already starting to slick out of her. How cute. “If I stay bedridden for an hour longer I might lose my mind. I think my body’s rested long enough. Why don’t you let me help you out, little mouse?”

“Please. Please, Luka-- oh dear god--” She clamps a hand down on her mouth when he easily fingers her, trying desperately to keep her voice down. How sweet of her to try to make sure she doesn’t wake up Adrien with her noises or squirming against Luka’s lap-- and how sweet of her to clench her soft thighs so desperately against his palm as he curls his fingers inside of her.

He lets her hide her face in his shoulder as he works her like an instrument, his long fingers reaching inside of her. He loves how wet she is. It almost feels like a sin to touch her like this, to know that she’s so willing to have everything he can offer her.

He’s more well-versed in the area now, and for that he’s happy. And it’s easy for him to slip his fingers all the way down to the knuckle into her as she whimpers behind her hands-- revel in how she sags against him, her free little fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulder.

He’s quick to find a rhythm that leaves her sopping against his hand and beading slick down the contour of the back of his hand. She tries to keep quiet, tries to keep her voice in as she whimpers, but when he curls his finger in a certain way she gasps loud and wanting enough to wake up the dead.

“You’re so wet, little one.” His smile curls. “Are you hurting?”

“No-- I’m-- oh-- oh my  _ god--” _ She whines behind her hands. “Please please--”

She’s close to coming already, the poor dear. He’s amazed at how easy she can flip the switch on herself, from perfectly comfortable and almost sexless when he’d woken up, to instantly panting and desperate just from his fingers alone. Pride is a dangerous thing to have in his chest, but Luka can’t help himself as she whimpers and squeezes her blackened eyes tight to keep tears from falling.

_ I want to come from Luka’s hands. I want Luka to hold me down and take the orgasm out of me. I want to be forced to come. I don’t want Luka to be gentle with me. _

If this is where he truly drowns from the amount of desires in his chest, he’s thankful that it’s from  _ these _ stars that are pinging inside of him. They’re bright enough in the empty fog that they almost feel like actual darts pricking his skin, and it’s addictive.

He places his left leg out of bed after shifting her in his lap, and instantly Marinette recognizes what he’s trying to do.

“You-- you know I’m heavier than I look, right?” She sighs into his shoulder, biting down on a fingernail. Her voice is soft, her chest overexerted in heavy breathing as he slows down on fingering her. He likes how her cheeks are stained red from blushing, how her lips swollen from biting.

“I can lift a lot more than you, I hope you know.” He keeps his laughter low. “Relax, little one. Let’s let Adrien sleep a little more while I help you out.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind the sight,” She supplies, still erring on the safe side of caution.

“Neither would I if I woke up to this.” He nips at her. “But just for a little while, I want to have you to myself.”

_ I wish Luka would fuck me against his lap while standing. _

It’s a nice idea.

But not quite what he’s going for.

He lifts her off of the bed with nothing of a struggle, leaning most of her weight onto the forearm that splits her between her thighs. Her toes curl as he carries her, and he nearly loses his footing when he feels her tail wrap around his torso, almost squeezing as tight as possible as she flexes. Absolutely perfect. What a  _ lovely _ little thing.

He takes her to the foot of the bed and settles her down on his lap again when he slides down to lean against the footboard. The floor is made soft with the rug and pillows that flank the wood, and it’s comfortable enough for his back that he doesn’t immediately try to reposition himself for a better position. 

He turns her in his lap, sitting her down on his hip just barely above his hardening length so that it bobs against the insides of her thighs, letting her look at herself in the mirror as he uses his knees to pull her legs apart.

She’s glistening and staining gold-dust already, oozing pretty fluid on his cock.

“You are one perfect girl, Marinette.” He mouths at her horns, mindful of not breaking any golden metal bands with his teeth. Her eyelashes flutter with a small little shiver, and her tail tightens across his torso.

She’s a beautiful sight in the mirror. The bites and hickeys on her body are all the more visible with her washed-out skin color, but with the added gold bands against her skin she’s a sight to behold. 

Her thighs are glistening with color, her slit wet and soft as he teases her with two pads of his fingers. He could so easily slip his fingers in again, feel her walls clench and attempt to milk him as she forces her way to a sweet honey-like release, but he’s in the mood to make her wait just a second longer. 

He wants to appreciate the view just for a bit more. 

He over circles the area that is most likely hurting the most on her-- ignoring her clit entirely as he watches her squirm and shift in his lap, desperate for release, her face pinching into a pout.

He drags his other hand across her stomach, and her hand clasps his wrist when he stops moving between her thighs. He detours from his goal and lets his fingers tweak at a tight nipple, and she pushes her chest up into his palms with little to no hesitation.

So eager to be pleased. What a lovely creature.

She tries shifting, tries angling her hips in a certain way to get him to continue fingering her, but there’s not much for her to do when her legs are stretched wide to fit across his open thighs. She turns her head to look back at him, desperation evident on her face as he refuses to move. “Please move, Luka, you’re not one to tease like this--”

He grabs ahold of her jaw and forces her to look in the direction of the mirror again. Her tongue unravels out of her mouth to lick at the back of his palm, just shy of being able to wrap her tongue around his wrist. “You know, little mouse, I don’t remember much of last night.”

She whimpers as he teethes against her horn again. His fangs audibly click against the metal bands, but he doesn’t use enough force to break them or hurt her. “Ah-- you--  _ oh--” _

_ I wish Luka would squeeze his hand on my neck. I wish Luka would let me come just like this. _

The contract settles in his chest.

“But I do remember seeing what you looked like when Adrien held you similar to this in the kitchen.” He drags his hand down from her jaw, down to the base of her neck. Her eyelashes flutter against the black void of her eyes as he watches her in the mirror, and he chuckles at her hands grabbing at his wrists. “Do you remember how nice you felt?”

She whines a breathless little gasp as he puts the bare amount of pressure against the collum of her neck. “Please-- please, Luka--”

She doesn’t have the strength to move his hands in the places that she wants them to be, even as she tries so desperately to get him to finger her again, and something that feels a little bit like pride swells in his chest at the scent of her. 

She’s sopping into the rug underneath them, black voids of eyes shiny and bright as he flashes a smile to her from the mirror. “It was a pretty sight, seeing you grabbing onto Adrien’s shoulder, trying to lift yourself up onto your toes to stop yourself from coming too early. I’d love to see something like that again. Don’t you?”

Her toes curl as she whimpers, her nails biting at the back of his hands. She’s scratching him as desperately as she can, trying to stop herself from twitching too hard at the spade and accidentally hurt him. 

He applies enough pressure to her neck in order to complete the contact. He groans as he fills himself on greed.

_ I wish I could come looking at myself. _

Ah. There she is. He’s grateful that it doesn’t take much effort for them to be in sync with their ideas. “Luka-- please--  _ please--” _

“Lift your hips up.” She doesn’t argue with him-- not that he expects her to. It’s almost heartwarming how easy it is for her to shift her hips just a bit forwards as he grabs himself by the base and sink down flush against him, spearing herself open on his dick. 

There’s no preamble, no teasing as she sinks down expertly well on him, slick folds soft against the head of his cock as she bears down on him. She cries out with a desperation not lost on him, passionate to keep her voice in and not wake up Adrien, and Luka suddenly wants to make it his life mission to change that for her. 

After all, if he can make Marinette stop thinking of others and care about them for even a  _ moment, _ it’ll be all it takes for him to know he’s fucked her senseless.

_ I want to come just like this. I want Luka to come inside me like this. _

Her walls are hot to the touch, and burn him almost pervasively. He knows the feeling of her heat all too well, having spent a good amount of time with his tongue-- not to mention his dick-- inside of her, but it continues to take him off guard. 

Viscous slick trails down the length of him, coating his lap and sensitive balls. He’s no virgin to torture, not with the number of years he’s lived on Earth and in hell, but  _ this _ is almost too much for him to handle. 

_ Almost. _

He can hardly hold himself back from rocking into her and filling her up just the way she wants him to, but he wants to try. He’s learned from Adrien’s helpless campaign to show off-- he knows exactly to channel energy in the right place to keep himself from giving in to the wonder that is Marinette, and he wants to give it a shot.

She moves against the length of his cock with just enough heat and pressure and pulsing walls that he has to lean his forehead down against one of her horns to keep himself from going crazy, his breath heavy in his mouth as it’s coated with the smell of her desire. “Good girl. You take me so well.”

He loves how she blushes at the praise, her white skin staining pink.

_ I wish Luka would say that more often. _

He remembers the position of Adrien’s hand on her hip from last night, and uses it as a base to guide himself with. She weighs practically nothing in his arms as he moves her, and she hides her mouth behind a hand as she mewls, keeping her head slightly tipped forward so that she doesn’t hurt him with her horns. “Please, Luka,  _ please--” _

He laughs low as she babbles behind her hand, using her other hand to reach behind her and clamp down on his shoulder. Her body bends at the slightly new position, tilting her hips forward, and there’s suddenly a lot more room for him to move her.

It’s easy to continue lifting her up from his lap and drop her back down, creating a nice rhythm for the both of them. The sound of skin hitting skin is mouth-watering to him, basking in the scent that he’s missed so much already.  _ There _ she is. It’d bothered him just how she smelled completely sterile when he’d woken up, and he didn’t understand why until now.

She doesn’t smell like  _ them. _

The thought drives him to pull her harder against his lap. It is heaven to feel her accommodate him so easily, to have her eyes close and pinch as he watches in the mirror just how full she is of his cock already.

Luka is almost at the edge as well, orgasm lurking just at the edge, waiting for the right moment. It won’t be long before Adrien wakes up, and he’ll have to share her. He doesn’t mind sharing, he’s never been one to be jealous about his relationships-- not in the way that Adrien is, at least-- but he wants her to at least enjoy herself and come just from his help alone. 

At least, he wants to try. The way she’s moaning, still trying to keep her voice down but not quite being able to, is making it apparent that Adrien will wake up any moment now. But he wants her to be louder, at least. These half-broken moans aren’t enough for him, knowing that she can be much,  _ much _ louder. Adrien will live if he wakes up an hour or two earlier than he wants to.

Her hand at her mouth reaches up to twirl at the air.

He’s quick to snatch it and trap it against her chest using his forearm, and her eyes flash open in confusion. His hand is free to reach up to her neck, if he so chooses to.

He smiles. “No, little one. Not yet.”

“But--  _ ah--” _

“I want you to come first.”

“Oh,” She offers, as if she’s the one who feels the contract settle and burst into fragments in his chest. “I’m-- but--  _ ah--  _ what about you?”

“I’m sure I don’t have to coerce you to actually do it. You can do it, can’t you?”

“I can, oh god, oh  _ god  _ how I can, Luka--” She cries at a tightening hand on her neck. Perfect, yielding, completely responsive-- how he loves her softness. The gasp she gives out is almost indicative that she’s starting to forget her silent vow to not wake up Adrien, how it’s loud and echoey in the room. Perfect. “Anything you ask of me I’ll do it, I promise, just please let me-- please--”

“Good. You’re so good for me.”

“But-- but what about you?” She whines.

Oh, Marinette. Always thinking of others.

“I’ve always wanted to see you come on my cock, ever since you showed up at the night club.” He chuckles when she flashes her teeth in the mirror at his words, and bats her spade somewhere on the rug. Her fangs are starting to grow again, lovely white points that are made even brighter with her pink tongue behind them. “I didn’t get to enjoy it last night with Adrien constantly trying to get the attention.”

“But why can’t I--”

He hushes her softly, fingers putting more pressure on her neck. She mewls. “Go on. Come while being filled up by my cock.”

She is nothing but a sweet salve as she nods, and cries, and does exactly as he asks-- her thighs desperate to close and lock but not quite strong enough to push his legs in as she comes. 

She’s loud enough to almost shout as he finally--  _ finally-- _ moves his hand against her slit, teasing her from clit to where she’s wrapped tightly around him like a vice. He groans at the feeling of her walls squeeze and milk and spill fluid down their thighs and onto the rug, her breath rapid and painful as she cries. 

Perfect. So, so perfect.

* * *

“She’s going to break.” Adrien’s the one to sound his concern.

“No I won’t.” Marinette squeezes out tears from her eyes as she gasps and pulls Adrien closer anyway. 

“You’re  _ crying.” _

Luka perks up behind her, tilting his head to the side to look at tears that swell from her waterline and track down her cheeks.

“I’m crying because Luka ate me out to the point where I saw Jesus, you dork.” She flicks Adrien on the arm, much to his disappointment. She wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, sniffling to get the feeling to stop making her legs shake. “How’d you think I manage to take in all of you in one go?”

Adrien struggles to find argument, settling on: “Love?”

She laughs, “Yes. But other things, too. Luka’s tongue helped out more than you would ever believe.”

“Still. You’re going to break.”

Luka bites her shoulderblade as she tries to answer him back. “I’ve-- oh--  _ oh-- _ I’ve done this before with much bigger people and I haven’t died yet.”

A beat passes, and she physically watches Adrien cycle through about ten different responses in his head, nearly losing his thoughts altogether when she twirls her hand in the air in a mock. He snatches her hand from the air before she’s able to complete pinching a fake string, and for extra measure he places it in between their chests.

“You weren’t this hungry when you did it, probably.” Adrien’s brows crinkle, letting her scratch and claw at his back with her remaining hand as her tail struggles to get out of Luka’s grasp. Luka’s grip is so firm at the base of her tail that if he were to give her a good pull she’d probably end up getting a chiropractic massage out of it. Chakras aligning and everything, if she had any. “When was the last time you did this?”

She sighs with enough exasperation to feel it in her soul. “I don’t know. French Revolution? Don’t make me think, kitty-cat, I don’t do well when I’ve got dick in me.”

“Oh, Lord. What if you tear? I’m not the best when it comes to you bleeding.”

What a god damn liar. She has the bite marks to prove it-- and barely the brainpower to heal herself up from it. She’ll sport the teeth marks on her arms and ribs for a little while longer, since Adrien seems so keen to puff up his chest whenever he looks at them, and she likes the way his face lights up, knowing that  _ he _ was the one who put it there.

“Would you relax?” She rolls her eyes. It’s pointless to do so, since they can’t exactly see where her pupils, but it’s an instinctual thing whenever Adrien tries to bicker with her. She’s quick to take the bait anyway, since she’s so accustomed to arguing with him, and can’t help herself even as he twitches inside of her. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine. Luka’s been more than generous, and I’m literally built to take this type of stuff. I can’t focus if you’re worried about me taking a dick in my ass.”

“It’s not just  _ a _ dick--”

“Adrien, so help me god.”

“It’s just-- you know--  _ Luka’s _ dick. Which is fine, I can do it too, but having  _ both?  _ Even Luka’s not that much of a daredevil, and he’s not complaining about this idea because you accidentally made it into a contract.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll admit it’s not  _ just a dick.  _ But, what, saying ‘I want Luka’s dick in my ass while Adrien is already in me’ suddenly makes it into a contract?”

Adrien’s face twitches. In any other circumstance she’d call it cute, if it wasn’t so annoying, knowing that he was trying to stop her from enjoying the ultimate pleasure. Sue her, she  _ likes _ trying new things. And being double-teamed by two large demon dicks just sounds like a good time. Sounds like heaven. 

Ironic.

“Hey, hey watch it. You know I’m just trying to make sure you don’t break from two dicks in you.” Adrien’s hand smooths down towards her waist, where he forces herself down even further on his cock.

“Good to know that the Prince of hell can count past one, I guess. How much did you pay annually for the tutor?” She’s feeling smart, and just a  _ little _ bit punchy with him tonight after he’d advocated for more grapes on his tray when he’d woken up. If only a certain  _ someone _ hadn’t already made incredible headway on the number of groceries she’d bought beforehand. There are no shoes around for her to throw, so she settles on glaring at him.

She could throttle him if she wasn’t so much in love with him. And if she wasn’t in love with the ache of her walls being overstretched by his cock.

There’s a crack of energy that surges in Adrien’s eyes as he attempts to make eye contact with her, and it stains his green irises into a vibrancy that makes her body shiver. “Don’t get feisty with me, Princess-- I know you can’t even handle me biting you without coming, so don’t even start.”

She doesn’t have to look in the mirror to know that her eyes are staining the air as well. “Oh, I’d like to see you try. You want to start another ego contest with me, Agreste? Trust me when I say you’ll lose.”

“Are you two done?” Luka can’t stop laughing as the two of them size each other up. “My god, I imagined the arguing would’ve gone  _ down,  _ not up, after you two admitted to liking each other.”

“It was a mistake to admit it.” She huffs, smothering a hand onto Adrien’s face to get him to stop making eye contact with her. The sight alone of those electric greens is enough to make her legs twitch in anticipation, but she doesn’t want to come so soon without Luka inside her. It’s a  _ team  _ effort. Adrien sputters under her hand as she shifts his face to the side. “It’s gone right to his head. The bed isn’t big enough for his royal highness anymore.”

Luka leans his head down on her shoulder as he continues to laugh. “Christ.”

“What a royal pain in the ass.” She mumbles under her breath. She yelps when Adrien swats her on her thigh with his palm in retaliation, and tries not to roll her eyes for a completely different reason as pleasure floods her body. 

Oh. More of that and they’ll have a  _ party. _

“Princess, look at me in the eye and tell me that you’re not going to split at the seams if Luka enters you.” Adrien falters, “And then tell me that you’re actually looking at me in the eyes, because I can’t tell.”

“This shouldn’t be boosting my ego as much as it is.” Luka shrugs, offering a smile that’s full of teeth and humor when he manages to peel himself away from her shoulder. “I’m not even that big.”

“Not true.” Marinette shrugs back when Adrien makes a noise of disagreement. Luka’s face tints a slight pink when the two of them actually agree on something, and it just  _ has _ to be about this. “But I’ll be  _ fine.  _ Will you stop worrying? The only way I’ll die is if you don’t feed me, so don’t let me starve-- which is what you’re doing right now by not letting Luka even do what he wants. What kind of a lover are you?”

“A good one.”

“Debatable.”

“We can take _turns.”_ By god, Adrien is actually genuinely _concerned,_ isn’t he? “We don’t have to kill you in the process. I like having you very much alive, you know. Especially since I finally managed to tell you I like you. It’s a lot of effort.”

“I’m not going to break from having too much dick.”

“Says you.” Adrien snorts.

“Yes, says I, the girl who’s been in this body for at least six times as long as you’ve been alive--  _ and _ someone who literally needs come in order to live, thank you.” But she can’t contain the whimper that escapes from her mouth as more slick beads down her legs. Horny horny horny. “I’ll-- I’ll be  _ fine. _ Besides, this is a dream come true. You have  _ no _ idea how many times I’ve imagined this.”

Besides.  _ Besides. _

Adrien can’t be acting as if he’s not envisioning the same thing. He’s pouring thoughts of this exact scenario into her head, of her absolutely getting railed to a centimeter of her life. It’s a beautiful vision, looking at herself in third person-- how Adrien looks at her with wide infatuated eyes as she cries and mewls, sandwiched once again between the two of them. How she fists the sheets so well, just at the sides of Adrien’s hips as the both of them piston into her with such desperation and heat and lust that it’s enough for her to truly break into thousands of pieces.

He’s just as excited as she is at the prospect to see just how much her body can stretch and accommodate-- in fact, he might even be a little bit more excited than her. Definitely more scared, too. 

Luka, of course, is the same way-- third-person visions flooding her head to fill in the space left behind by Adrien’s thoughts. He wants to grip her so tight as they move that he’d be interested to see her bleed from his nails, and see if it’s even possible. Fist her hair back so Adrien can bite and suck on her battered and bruised neck and shoulders so hard enough for her to see stars-- and that’s  _ before _ even moving and snapping their hips into her.

Yes. Yes yes  _ yes. _

A thousand billion times yes. Adrien swears when she tightens on him, her cheeks heating as thoughts continue to pour into her head and fill her, her tongue beading with saliva as she lets it hang from her mouth.

Marinette likes trying new things, and she’s nothing if not curious about just how far she can go. Adrien’s right-- it’s been a long, long time since she’s taken two demons at the same time. She certainly wasn’t as hungry as weak as she is now, even though she’s feeling much better than the night before. Every single feeding she’s taken from the two of them is just helping her get stronger. One day, she might even be back in her prime.

She can’t wait to see her horns again. She has half a mind to waste magic and energy on glamouring them back onto her until her horns actually heal from the cracks, now that she has a surplus of energy in her from all the eating.

At any rate, they’ll definitely learn something new by the end of the night-- she’s fed twice already on Adrien tonight, almost at a punishing rate for complaining about the lack of grapes, so her body is lax enough to at least  _ try _ taking them both. 

Did Adrien really deserve to punished? Yes.

Okay, but did he  _ really? _ Yes. Absolutely.

It’s for the greater good, as far as she’s concerned. Marinette is hungry, horny, and most of all willing to drink straight from the tap-- and Adrien’s come is such a feast to her tastebuds that she can’t help but sink down to her knees every time he even twitches in interest about her mouth. Demon royalty are a whole other breed entirely, and she’d never realized that it would even be an option available to her. 

Besides,  _ besides,  _ it makes Adrien tamer and quieter by a  _ smidge _ when his dick is in her mouth. He certainly doesn’t try to argue with her when she’s tonguing at his balls or the vein on the underside of his cock. Good boy.

It makes her whole body relax and realign whenever she gets a good feeding, and soothes all the little cracks in her bones from hunger. And she always feeds well whenever the two of them are involved, of course.

“Yeah but--”

“Where’s your sense of adventure, kitty-cat?”

“Adventure doesn’t mean, you know, sending you to a  _ hospital.” _

She also might be feeling her whole body relax and realign because she’s essentially a panini being squished between two hard chests. There’s no room for any bad posture-- not with the way Luka keeps her pinned and crushed into Adrien’s collarbone.

“That just sounds hot.” Fucked to a centimeter of her life. She hopes that whoever her nurse ends up being is at least good-looking.

_ “Marinette,” _ Adrien whines. “Please don’t break.”

“Stop worrying. I promise you I’ll be fine.”

Luka takes his time sinking into her. The stars seem to align behind her closed eyelids as she takes him slow. She breathes heavy, and bats her spade against the blankets to her left as Luka continues-- and  _ continues--  _ to keep filling her. Every second that passes where he sinks fraction by fraction she’s convinced that he’s done, but he just doesn’t stop.

She’s tracking slick all the way down her thighs.

Stitch by stitch she’s split open, pain and anguish flooding her body, and she drops her head back onto Adrien’s shoulder with a heavy groan. She’s stretching to the max. Oh, the pain is luxurious. 

How fitting, she thinks to herself, to be quite literally filled by the two demons she loves.

Luka kisses her shoulder as he’s finally sheathed down all the way into her, and Marinette can’t seem to control herself from panting. “Oh. Oh--  _ wow.” _

Too much. So much. Her body is starting to sing from pain, from how her body so desperately wants to accommodate. She wants them--  _ needs _ them--  _ needs _ the feeling to be full like she needs a Cradle-- how her body produces a copious amount of slick to try and help ease the pain, but she’s still too weak to handle it.

Adrien winces. “You okay?”

“Wow wow  _ wow.” _ She inhales a deep breath. “Okay, yes, d-definitely doing this  _ again.” _

“You’re not in pain?” Luka nips at the ball of her shoulder.

She shakes her head, trying to keep her lower half completely still. “I’m in a l-lot of pain. But it’s really--  _ really _ nice pain.”

This pain makes every single suffering she’s gone through in her life worth it. Absolutely worth it. She’d do every single thing the same way in the past hundred of years in her life, if it meant she’d be able to feel  _ this _ again for the first time.

“Oh, but--”

“Ah!” Marinette shushes Adrien with a finger to his plush lips. He somehow manages to pout convincingly, like he isn’t thick and heavy and weeping beads precome into her core. “No. No w-worrying. Fine, I’ll--  _ oh my god--  _ I’ll cast a spell--  _ oh--  _ let me focus and I can make myself stop hurting.”

Luka hums. “Magic?”

“It’s a s-solution to everything because--  _ holy-- _ I’m not strong enough y-yet to actually take you both. This is too much.” She shows her teeth when she smiles, even though he can’t see it-- shivering as her body goes through a wave of warmth. Horny horny horny. “Give me a second. I gotta-- I gotta say the words without--  _ ah--  _ stuttering or it won’t work.”

Desperate desperate desperate.

“You might want to do that soon, little mouse. I think I can smell your blood.” Luka doesn’t notice her body tensing to his words. Curse of a succubus, being instinctively afraid of demons.

“Okay-- okay.” She nods to herself to get rid of the urge to try moving without the spell. “Okay, uhm. Uh. Probably should f-focus on my body for this one as a whole. So.  _ My body does not hurt anymore.” _

The air warps from her words. She gasps as her body relaxes, pain completely gone and disappearing, and has to stop herself from dropping her head hard into Adrien’s chest. She might accidentally stick him in the jaw with one of her horns if she does, and no amount of magic in the world would get Adrien to stop complaining.

_ “M-my--  _ shit. Okay.  _ My body is not  _ going _ to hurt.”  _ The air warps again. Her magic coats the roof of her mouth in a salve, and she’s able to breathe correctly.

“Or tear.”

“Adrien,” She’s exasperated and hits her spade against the blankets again. “Fine.  _ My body is not currently tearing, and it is not going to tear.” _

The air warps for the final time. In any other circumstance, she wouldn’t bother with putting seals up to protect herself, but her body is still too frail, even if she is greedy for everything they have. As long as she’s able to have them both.

One day they’ll get there, to where she doesn’t have to use magic and pray and whatever else. When she’s strong enough.

She nods a confirmation when there’s no pain to be found, even shimmying her ass to test the waters, much to Adrien’s heated face. 

She’s not necessarily numb to the sensation down there-- no, she can feel them both crystal clear. But her magic’s allowed her to stop feeling that spear of pain that forms at the base of her spine, which would otherwise completely render her useless. Good.

Two sharp points dig into her shoulder, and her body refuses to let her feel the actual pain of it.

“Oh!”

She knows that Luka’s biting her-- her body knows the feeling of his tongue against her skin, and sharp fangs against her flesh, but there’s no frazzled nerves. Her body reacts instinctively to a demon biting into her skin-- tensing, wanting nothing more to get out before she gets hurt more-- but thousands of years servicing demons has made it easier to control. 

Not to mention that she knows these two, and knows that Luka doesn’t actually pose a threat while he teethes at her skin. He’d turn into a human first before even ever considering to hurt her irreparably. 

She gasps at the sensation of the warm, wet tongue, more than the actual biting. “Oh my god--  _ oh--” _

She’s a sweaty, malleable succubus between them that glitters from gold and sweat and come when Adrien’s hand lands on her thigh again, just below the golden thigh cuffs Luka’s placed on her skin. She moans a broken cry, her body attempting to send news that she’s been slapped on the leg, but there’s nothing but static making it into her head.

Luka moves first.

There’s a groaning, hissing noise that comes from behind her that forces her to keep her eyes open, and she tracks Adrien’s face as his eyes roll back behind blonde eyelashes. 

Marinette shifts forward, straddling Adrien’s hips as her body overloads her with senses. She’s coated in their collective scent, homely and safe and  _ hers,  _ and it’s really,  _ really  _ difficult for her to keep her body from explode prophetical fireworks from happiness.

Home. She’s  _ home. _

She can’t stop herself from crying out as they snap their hips. And Adrien turns  _ predatory. _

“That’s much better, isn’t it Princess? What a beautiful girl, taking us so well.”

She can’t respond, too focused on her hands that drag against Adrien’s back.

Her orgasm is precarious as they continue to shift and drag and snap into her, and it’s hard for her to focus on one individual thing. When she takes her time to enjoy the warmth of their bodies pressing up against hers, Adrien will pull her out of her thoughts by letting her curl her tongue into his mouth.

When she focuses on those plush lips on his, nipping softly with the edges of her elongated fangs, Luka’s thrusts go shallow. There’s stars against her eyelids as they continue to push into her, and she has to break away from Adrien’s kiss in order to keep her hands on his shoulders steady.

She scratches at the available skin, mewling and crying out, feeling so full and close to bursting that her eyes pinch closed.

“Wow, Marinette, you’ve-- you’ve never--” Luka swears into her ear. “Never been this warm before.”

“Please--  _ please--”  _ She makes an effort to twirl her hands. “C-can I?”

“Yes, please,  _ please _ do.”

“Absolutely.”

She pinches the tips of her fingers together on both of her hands, letting the strings rest between the pads of her fingers. They both hiss and groan.

She plucks at the strings with a breathless laugh, feeling their hips stutter.

_ You two are so good to me. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've made it to the end!!!! Hey there!!!!
> 
> Thanks for reading it all the way through!!! You're a real trooper :D  
> There are so many things for this AU I've accidentally created in my head that I am so desperate to write but couldn't fit into this story. There are ABSOLUTELY sequels/prequels(!!!) being planned, so help me god!!! 
> 
> Keep your eyes peeled for them, I'll get to them after I'm done writing all the other stories I'm working on (there are three entire stories I'm working on in the background, can you believe it? Why am I like this?? I'm even rewriting two of my old fics because I guess I don't learn that I'm taking too many projects at once. Help me.)
> 
> Thank you for the wonderful comments, kudos, hits, and love you've given me for this AU that only happened because I listened to Maneater by Nelly Furtado for the first time in literal years. And also accidentally came up with a pun while listening to the song. This was so much fun to write. You're the absolute best!!!!!
> 
> You know where to find me!!!
> 
> Lots of Love,  
> FragileIzy<3

**Author's Note:**

> Come back next week to get the second chapter!
> 
> Wanna follow me on tumblr? Click [here!](https://fragileizy.tumblr.com)  
> Want to join a miraculous discord server I'm in and advertise on all my fics? Click [here!](https://discord.gg/MJTFPcN)


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